


Prompts, Pumpkins, and Pistols

by SirLancelotTheBrave



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Cotton Candy Fluff, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Some angst, au prompts, occasional smut, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 31,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2387018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLancelotTheBrave/pseuds/SirLancelotTheBrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts under 1000 words for October, loosely based around autumn and Hallowe'en. Written alongside ComeHitherAshes for our six month writers' anniversary. Tags and triggers will given at the beginning of each chapter. </p><p>ComeHither's posts are as much of a surprise to me as they are to you lovely readers: we don't discuss them beforehand. Any similarities are a happy coincidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ComeHitherAshes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeHitherAshes/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 - Roommates (first day moving in together)

The door stuck in its frame when he tried to open it. Somehow, that seemed like a bad omen.

Porthos slammed a shoulder against the door, levering it open. It only made it about a foot before it hit something solid. A crashing sound echoed into the hallway, followed by an alarmed squawk.

"What the hell?" He squeezed through the tiny space to find his assigned room full of boxes and bags. It seemed he'd knocked over a pile when he'd opened the door. Books and DVDs spilled out onto the floor and he stooped hurriedly to collect them.

"Sorry!" a voice called from somewhere in the mess. "I'll get it sorted soon!"

Porthos dropped Lord of the Rings into the box and scanned the labyrinth, searching for the owner of the voice. The sheer amount of boxes seemed to be blocking the light from the window. "Thought I'd be first," he muttered, trying for a conversational tone. He really hadn't wanted a roommate, but he couldn't afford a single room.

"I left you first pick of the beds!" the voice called again, and suddenly a mass of unruly curls was peering over a box near the corner. Porthos reached over and flicked on the overhead light, illuminating dark curls, tan skin, and a cheerful smile that seemed to punch straight through him.

 _Fuck_.

He was hot.

And Porthos was in trouble.

The speaker looked around himself, obviously searching for an exit, but the boxes stretched up past his waist on all sides. "I appear to be stuck," he said cheerfully, trying to shove one out of the way but only succeeding in making it tilt precariously. "A little help?" His voice was ridiculously hopeful as he glanced over at Porthos.

Porthos snorted, dropping his duffel to the ground before picking his way through the maze of boxes. "Not sure I can move any of this without sendin' it all over," he said thoughtfully, examining the leaning towers. The handsome face fell theatrically.

"So I'll be trapped forever?"

"Not necessarily," Porthos murmured, glancing at him appraisingly. "You trust me?"

"I just met you," his roommate replied, but his eyes glittered with an edge of mischief that set Porthos grinning.

Without another word he leaned over the boxes, grasped the slender waist firmly, and lifted the other man free of the corner.

"That's one way to do it," the man said a little breathlessly, smiling widely at him as Porthos set him down. His jeans were so tight against his skin they looked painted on. He stuck out a hand. "Aramis."

"Porthos," he replied, noticing the way Aramis's grip lingered just too long to be totally proper. His palm tingled when he pulled away. "You've got a lot o' stuff."

Aramis grinned ruefully, looking around the disaster zone. "I may have over-packed. I'll make room for your things if you give me a moment."

Porthos rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Eh, no need. I only got the one."

Dark, intelligent eyes flicked up to meet his, but Porthos read no judgement in them, only interest. Interest he was definitely returning despite his better judgement.

"Well," Aramis said airily, slinging a companionable arm about his shoulders. Porthos noticed he had to stand on tiptoe to do so. "They say an essential part of the college experience is unpacking." He glanced at Porthos, dark eyes twinkling now with amusement. "You'll just have to help me!"

Porthos grinned, relaxing at the easy acceptance. "Oi, I ain't unpaid labor."

Aramis looked around at the piled boxes in mock despair. "Please don't leave me to toil alone, _mon cher_. I've brought enough stuff to fill this whole room!"

"What's that word mean?" Porthos asked curiously. To his delight, Aramis actually flushed a bit. He had to fight to keep from grinning dopily at the sight. No one should look that good under fluorescent lights.

"Nothing," he muttered quickly. "So you'll help me?" He sent Porthos a look full of so much pleading that Porthos laughed aloud.

"Yeah, I'll 'elp. Put me to work."

Aramis took him at his word, and between the two of them they managed to get enough boxes unpacked out of the dorm room that Porthos could at last find the beds.

"So, my choice?" he asked, holding his duffel bag uncertainly as he eyed the two beds pushed up against opposite walls.

"Of course!" Aramis cried from where he was organizing the bookshelf, but Porthos noticed him looking at the bed closest to the window out of the corner of his eye.

Smirking to himself, Porthos plopped his bag down on the bed further from the window, liking the way Aramis's face lit up in pleasure as he threw himself across the other bed.

Oh, he was so screwed. He'd thought a lot about the problems someone like him would face in college, but he'd never thought fancying his roommate might be one of them.

He tugged off his hoodie, glad to be rid of the heavy material at last, and caught Aramis watching him with a rapt expression. He turned away to hide his grin.

Seemed like he wasn't the only one.

"Shall we, uh, get dinner?" he asked casually.

"My, my, forward, aren't you?" Aramis said, winking when Porthos glanced around at him. Living with this one was going to be interesting. "I think there's a cookout on the lawn. Shall we?"

He nodded, smiling when Aramis beamed at him and headed for the door. Porthos held it open for him, feeling a bit silly at the chivalrous gesture, but the grin he received was worth it.

Aramis ran down the hallway, shouting about some friend of his Porthos had to meet. Porthos leaned against the wall to wait, enjoying the view a bit too much.

He thought about the school handbook he'd been sent and made a mental note to flip through it later.

Hopefully there was no rule about dating roommates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoyed this lovely prompt!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - “I’m sorry but your headphones are so loud I can hear them from here and just what the crap do you think you’re listening to? That’s so two thousand and late”/”You know you’re singing to your headphones out loud, right?”
> 
> Tags: Athamis meet cute

Athos hunkered down deeper into the scratchy seat, wondering darkly if the snack bar sold earplugs. Or perhaps baseball bats.

He was beginning to bitterly regret his decision not to travel in first class.

The train car was almost deserted except for himself and a man near the front who was singing enthusiastically along to some song on his iPod. Normally this wouldn't bother Athos, but he'd been at it for the last half hour and was slowly getting louder and louder.

Even worse, he was singing _Disney songs._

Athos's own ancient iPod color had died three stations into the trip and they were only halfway to Boston. He wasn't sure he would survive another four hours of his car-mate singing both parts of "Love is an Open Door."

The man belted out the last few lines as the song ended. For a moment there was silence and Athos allowed himself to hope that perhaps the man was done for a moment. Then a new track must have started, for the man starting singing "Let It Go." As if Athos hadn't received enough chain emails about wonder children singing that goddamn song from ill-informed coworkers.

Athos rose stiffly to his feet and made his way forward to where the man sat in the front of the compartment. He stopped just behind him and scowled darkly at the ridiculously cheerful red beret the man was wearing.

Disney songs and a red beret. Did the man have no dignity?

"You do know you're singing out loud, right?" he asked coldly, raising his voice to be sure the man heard him.

The result was almost comical. The man started visibly, looking around so fast that the beret slipped from his head, revealing a mass of dark, curly hair. He yanked his earbuds out hastily, the tinny music echoing from them until he managed to find the pause button.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" he cried dramatically, looking up at Athos with wide, dark eyes.

Years of training had Athos murmuring "My apologies," before he could stop himself. "But you've been singing Disney songs since we passed through New York," he added before the man could think he was off the hook.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know anyone else was in here!" the man told him earnestly, scooping the fallen beret off the train floor. "Wait, what's wrong with Disney songs?" He glared up at Athos suspiciously. "They are wonderful. Where were you, anyway? Lurking in the back?"

Athos narrowed his eyes, uncomfortably aware of how anti-social that made him sound. "Just please keep it down," he said stiffly, turning away.

He didn't glance around until he reached his seat. A second later the stranger dropped down next to him, smiling charmingly.

Athos glanced at him. "I don't recall inviting you to join me."  
The man's grin only widened as he perched his beret back atop his wild curls. "You didn't introduce yourself."

"I know," Athos muttered darkly.

"Allow me," the man said airily. "The name is Aramis. _Enchanté_." He caught Athos's hand and shook it merrily.

Athos looked into the earnest expression and realized there was no escape. He couldn't keep being cold to someone with a smile that bright. "Athos," he murmured at last. " _Un plaisir de faire votre connaissance."_

"That was very formal. Wait, you speak French?" Aramis asked, sounding alarmingly delighted before promptly launching into what seemed like a detailed account of his life, all in French. He explained how he was living in Boston with an old friend right now and had been in D.C visiting family.

Athos followed along, nodding in all the right places. To his surprise, he actually found himself interested in the life and ramblings of a total stranger. Of course, the fact that the man was uncommonly attractive had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

"So why were you sitting back here all alone?" Aramis asked, swapping back to English so suddenly that Athos found himself replying without thinking about it.

"I don't like people."

Aramis stared at him. For a moment, Athos was worried he had offended him, and then annoyed at himself for caring what a stranger thought. Then Aramis threw back his head and laughed.

"Not so polite after all," he chuckled, grinning wickedly. "I'll remember that. So, antisocial, educated, and hates Disney. You're a treat." The last was accompanied by an altogether too flirtatious wink.

"I do not hate Disney," Athos said stiffly. "I just think _Frozen_ a poor representation of the studio's better work."

"Oh?" Aramis asked curiously. "What's better?"

Athos thought for a moment. " _Beauty and the Beast_."

A moment later an earbud was thrust under his nose. He looked up to find Aramis watching him eagerly.

"You have it on there, don't you?" Athos asked wearily, taking the earbud with faux reluctance. Aramis scooted closer to him and pressed play. Soon the familiar strains of the title song began to play.

Unsurprisingly, Aramis sang along. He knew every word.

They made their way through the entire soundtrack. When it ended, Aramis passed him the iPod and told Athos to choose the next one. They settled on _Mulan_.

When the soundtrack ended, Aramis decided they must go and buy hot chocolates from the snack car. Athos allowed himself to be dragged along, wondering how a total stranger had blown down his barriers as if they'd never existed.

On the way back to their car, Aramis went on about how Athos simply had to come have dinner with him and his roommate when they reached the city. His beret fell off again as they sat down, now pressed far closer together than was proper.

To Athos's surprise, he found himself murmuring an acceptance of the invitation. Aramis's resulting grin was almost blinding.

He leaned down and grabbed the fallen beret, plopping it on Aramis's head as "I See the Light" began to play over the headphones.

Perhaps coach hadn't been a terrible decision after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Kissed them as a distraction whilst stealing their wallet
> 
> Tags: Portamis, pickpockets, so much fluff

Porthos jammed his hands deeper into the pockets of his oversized Patriots hoodie, scanning the crowd for marks as commuters exited the subway. He attracted a few nasty looks from some teens in Yankees caps, but a dark glare and a good look at his broad shoulders sent them running.

Porthos grinned to himself, flipping up his hood. It was almost too easy.

He probably shouldn't take so much enjoyment out of this, but the truth of the matter was he loved the thrill he got from checking the crowd for men with loose pockets. Pickpocketing wasn't the most glamorous of crimes, but it put food on the table.

Or at least, the stack of milk crates he was using as a table in his shoddy apartment at the moment.

He picked out a likely looking target and sauntered over, slipping his headphones into his ears. They weren't connected to anything, but he'd found it was helpful to look distracted.

He positioned himself just behind the man as they made their way towards the escalators. A surge in the crowd, a bump against the shoulder, and a muttered apology later, and he was slouching casually away with a creased leather wallet jammed into his pockets.

Too easy.

He flipped through it as he ducked down an alley, intent on returning to the subway as soon as possible. He scowled when he only found about 30 bucks and a bunch of credit cards. He jammed the bills into his own wallet and tossed the empty one and credit cards into a bin before re-entering the station, already scanning for his next mark.

His eyes flicked over a well-dressed young man and away, immediately dismissing him. Jeans that tight were too difficult to lift from. The he found his eyes dragging back again, seemingly against his will, to take a closer look.

The man would've been striking anywhere, but here, among the dregs of the morning commuters, he was like a gem. Artfully tousled curls, tanned skin, white skinny jeans, white leather jacket with a turquoise scarf… All that was missing were wings and a halo.

Porthos felt his mouth going dry.

He shook his head, irritated with himself for allowing a distraction to keep him from what needed to be done. An extremely attractive distraction...

No.

He shook his head again and looked up to find the people nearest him watching him like he were a lunatic. Well. He was shaking his head like a dog in the middle of one of the more run down subway stations, but surely they'd seen worse? They were New Yorkers, after all.

He glanced past his immediate audience and nearly bolted when he saw Angel looking at him too. Porthos pressed forward, letting the crowd absorb him and hide him from unexpectedly dark eyes.

He focused resolutely on finding another mark, but he couldn't rid his mind of Angel. Just then, he caught sight of a flash of white in the crowd. He cracked a grin despite himself, but it fell away when he noticed the weedy kid slouching along behind.

Hell no. If Porthos wasn't robbing him, then nobody was.

He pushed his way through the crowd, catching up to them just as the kid began his pull maneuver. Porthos caught the kid's wrist in one hand just before it dipped into Angel's pocket.

"Oh no you don't," he rumbled. The kid looked up at him in abject terror as Angel whirled around, eyes darting between them, assessing the situation.

Porthos leaned closer, keeping his voice low as he muttered to the kid, "Never pull from someone with tight jeans, yeah?" The kid nodded hurriedly. Straightening, Porthos made a show of letting the kid go, calling, "And let that be a lesson to you!" after him.

He glanced around to find Angel watching him with a curious expression. "I believe you rescued me," he said silkily, dark eyes intense.

"Nah," Porthos said, shuffling awkwardly. "Just your wallet." He'd never had a conversation with anyone this posh before. Or anyone this attractive. He felt huge and clumsy and oafish.

"I believe that makes you my hero," Angel murmured. Jesus Christ, the man was all but purring. Porthos swallowed heavily as he stepped closer. "Perhaps I ought to reward you."

"Y-yeah?" he asked, cursing himself for stammering. What was _wrong_ with him? Any other day, he'd be smooth as you please, but here, when it counted, he was like a blushing teenager.

Luckily, it seemed Angel didn't mind. Heedless of the crowd jostling them, he stepped in and pressed his lips to Porthos's. He tasted like vanilla.

And then he was gone, leaving Porthos staring after him in shock. After a moment, the crowd succeeding in shoving him to the wall, where he continued to stand, struck dumb.

It wasn't until he slipped his hands into his pockets once more that he realized his wallet was gone.

"Son of a bitch!" He searched the other pocket and found, to his surprise, his wad of cash, along with a slim business card.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, examining the card. On one side, it read _Aramis d'Herblay, Director of Photography, Versailles Modelling Company_. Beneath it was a phone number and a corporate email. Under that was scrawled in an elegant hand, "Call for a job. You're too pretty to be picking pockets." A tiny arrow was drawn beside that indicating he should flip the card over.

He snorted, flipping to read the back. A second number was scrawled across it, along with, "For a good time, call." Then he'd drawn a tiny winky face with a speech bubble that said, "You're cute."

Porthos looked up, zeroing in on a patch of white leaning on the bannister at the top of the elevator. Angel smiled and winked, lifting a hand to his ear in a 'call me' gesture. Then he vanished.

Perhaps not an angel after all. He grinned. Sinners were more fun than saints anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Beat the crap out of each other in online multiplayer
> 
> Tags: Portamis, OT3 (hinted), video games, fluff

"Take that!" Aramis crowed, watching with satisfaction as his opponent's health bar emptied.

A moment later his beanbag was yanked out from under him, leaving him sprawled across the floor. "Show off," he muttered, glaring up at Porthos's smug expression as he readjusted his headset.

"You're the one who's cheating," Porthos chuckled, releasing the beanbag so Aramis could climb back up.

"I wasn't cheating!" Aramis said hotly, running for cover before Porthos could re-spawn and take revenge. "I'm on the same damn screen; you could see where I was hiding."

"Nah, you're a sneaky fucker," Porthos muttered darkly. "It's like you're a fucking sniper or something."

Aramis shot him a smile. "It's a gift, darling."

Porthos huffed in annoyance at the pet name, looking pointedly at Aramis's half of the screen before running in his direction, the tip of his tongue poking past his lips in the way it always did when he was focusing intently.

Aramis was momentarily mesmerized by the sight.

He recovered himself in time to flee the onslaught that was Porthos's ridiculously well-armed character. Aramis needed to shoot him from afar: with all that weaponry, he had no chance in close combat.

He darted down a passageway and saw Porthos eyeing his half of the screen again. "Stop cheating!" he cried, jumping to his feet in an attempt to block the screen.

"Oh, what's this?" Porthos shouted delightedly, wrapping a thick arm around Aramis's waist and yanking him down. "Shoe's on the other foot now, ain't it?"

"Let me up!" Aramis wailed, struggling to free himself. "I'll be massacred."

"Too right," Porthos chuckled, keeping Aramis pinned in his lap with one arm while managing the buttons with his other.

Truth be told, Aramis wasn't struggling that hard. He rather liked this position. He liked it even more when Porthos paused to flip off the headsets.

Onscreen, Porthos's character had caught up with him. Aramis was right: it was a massacre.

"Nooooo!" he cried. "You've killed me!" He swooned dramatically across Porthos's lap, knocking his controller askew.

"Oi, menace, off," Porthos ordered, but his lips twitched with a smile. He had yet to take his hands from the bare skin exposed at Aramis's waist, so Aramis was in no hurry to move.

"Murderer!" he added, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Aww, don't be like that, babe," Porthos murmured, hands inching up under Aramis's shirt. "S'just a game."

Aramis snorted with laughter. No one took this game as seriously as Porthos did. He lifted his arm to find Porthos grinning at him. "I'll make it up to you," he added, voice roughening slightly.

"Oh?" Aramis asked, interest peaked. "When?"

Porthos's grin widened. "I was thinking now might be- son of a bitch!"

"What?" Aramis asked, rolling off Porthos as he lunged for his controller. "Oh, shit."

Onscreen, a high level character was approaching. "Why aren't we AFK?" Aramis muttered, fumbling for his controller.

"Where the fuck did this bastard come from, anyway?" Porthos growled. "Goddammit!" The last word came as the enemy took him down with a few well-placed blows. "Shit, Aramis, run."

"Too late," Aramis groaned, watching sadly as his health bar emptied.

Porthos lunged forward for the console, flicking the headsets back on. "Who the hell d'you think you are!" he roared. Aramis winced at the tone but said nothing, a bit appalled at the ignoble death himself.

"Excuse me?" The voice on the other end was cool and cultured. Aramis felt a tingle run down his spine and had to fight not to smile. Porthos would hate that, hate the aura of education and good breeding radiating from the voice.

Better than an annoying kid, at any rate.

"You can't just fucking sneak up on people like that!" Porthos fumed.

"I did not 'sneak up.' You were just standing there like statutes. So I killed you."

"You're just a fucking-"

"That's enough of that," Aramis cried, hastily cutting Porthos off before he could get them both banned. Again. "I believe we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Aramis. The brute is Porthos."

There was silence for a long moment. Then, "Do you always just give strangers on the internet your name?" There was wry amusement in the voice now, and Aramis smirked when he saw Porthos's frown soften into something like grudging respect.

"Why, yes, I like to be polite," Aramis chuckled.

"Hmm. Athos."

"Delighted. If it isn't too forward of me, where you by any chance looking for a group for the next area? We've tried to three times on our own and every time, we've been slaughtered."

Porthos shot him a look that clearly said _what the fuck is wrong with you why are we even dating_ but Aramis waved it off. "So, what do you say?"  
Athos was silent for so long Aramis wondered if he had left. Then he sighed and muttered, "Fine."

"Excellent!" Aramis cried, beaming at Porthos, who just shook his head in despair. "Now, about our battle plan…"

Seven hours later, the three of them had completed every high-level area in the section. Athos turned out to be wonderful conversation once he relaxed, prone to making sarcastic quips that had Porthos and Aramis laughing breathlessly while he presumably smirked in satisfaction.

Porthos had even made Athos chuckle about five hours into their acquaintance, something that had him and Aramis exchanging pleased grins. Athos had quite a nice laugh.

"So," Aramis said as they slaughtered the last of the enemies in the section. "What're you up to tomorrow?"

"Probably the same. Why?"

"Thought we might play again," Aramis said casually.

"Alright."

Porthos grinned, adding, "Video chat this time?"

"Fine. I'll be on around noon." He signed off, leaving Aramis and Porthos to grin at each other like lunatics.

"Bed, now, I think," Porthos growled, dragging Aramis towards him. "Gotta get our beauty rest for Athos tomorrow."

Aramis smirked and allowed himself to be manhandled to the bedroom, wondering if Athos would be as handsome as his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - “It was raining so hard I wasn’t paying attention as I ran into the side of your car/you/your umbrella, but we’re both drenched now and also hey there”
> 
> Tags: Porthos/Athos, fluff, rainstorms

Porthos snarled a curse as he battled his umbrella. The wind was attempting to tear it from his grasp as he hurried down the flooding streets. He hated the rain, hated the way it seeped through every layer of clothing and left him damp and irritable in his tiny apartment with no way to properly dry off.

The streets were mercifully clear of pedestrians as he splashed through puddles deep enough to cover his shoelaces in cold water. He wouldn't be surprised if a tidal wave swept around the corner and drowned him.

He shrugged his shoulders, drawing his hoodie closer to his body in the hopes of keeping it dry. It'd be nice to have something to wear while the rest of his clothes dripped on the floor.

Damn. He knew he should've done laundry last week. Then maybe he wouldn't be in this predicament.

He looked up, eyeing the distance he still had to go with a stubborn glare, but the wind chose that moment to rip his umbrella from his hands. Shouting a furious oath, he took off after it. He rounded the corner in full pursuit, sprinting after it, only to find himself confronted with an open car door.

There wasn't time to stop.

He slammed into it and heard a loud _ooof_ as whoever was getting out of the car bore the full brunt of his weight. He crashed to the ground, blinking dazedly through the rain.

The car door had remained half open, but beneath it he could see a pair of legs in expensive looking shoes sitting in a puddle, water soaking through what looked like a grey designer suit.

_Shit_.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the ache in his wrist where he'd landed on it. "Sorry, mate, you alright?" he asked nervously, glancing over the door.

The man that looked up at him was much younger than he'd expected. He was impeccably dressed, as Porthos had guessed, although the handsome business suit was a bit ruined by the bedraggled look. Dark hair was plastered to his forehead. Eyes like chips of ice glared up at Porthos.

"Fine," he said succinctly, still glaring, though when Porthos darted around the door to offer him a hand up he did not refuse it. Porthos bit back a hiss when the action jarred his wrist.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow at the sound.

"S'nothing," Porthos muttered. "Just fell funny. Sorry about that. Lost my umbrella…" He trailed off miserably as he realized the umbrella was gone. "Damn."

The stranger looked him over, eyebrow still raised. "You're soaked."

"Oi, so are you," Porthos said defensively.

The smallest of grins graced the man's face, his lips just pulling up at the corners. Porthos stared blankly. How had he just become a hundred times more attractive?

"I meant no offense," the stranger said. "I was merely going to apologize for my car being in your way."

Now it was Porthos's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You're apologizin' to me?" he asked incredulously.

The man shrugged. "Well, I was pulled up illegally in front of the building. Speaking of which…" he paused and leaned down to look into the car. "You can go, Alphonse."

A private driver. Porthos would've whistled if he weren't so damp and dispirited. The man must be as loaded as he looked.

"S'really me who oughta be sayin' sorry," he mumbled, gesturing to the man's ruined suit. "Your suit's ruined."

The man's lips quirked up again. "Perhaps we should just agree to accept half the blame and take this discussion inside?" he said, motioning towards the building.

Porthos glanced over to see the swanky lobby of some expensive apartment complex. "I should be goin', gotta get home…" he muttered evasively, knowing he'd look like riffraff if he walked in there.

The man's eyes took on a glint of steely determination. "Nonsense. I'm soaked, you're soaked, and it's clear you don't live nearby. The least I can do is offer you a change of clothes and lend you an umbrella."

Porthos met the man's gaze and sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, following the man inside and trying to ignore the trail of water he left across the immaculate floor.

The entered an elevator and the man pushed the button for the penthouse. Naturally.

"I'm Athos, by the way," he said.

"Porthos," he grunted in response, overwhelmed by the grandeur.

The penthouse was every inch as posh as Porthos expected it to be, and he suppressed a groan. Athos disappeared into a room and came back moments later with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that said 'I heart NYC.'

"From a friend," Athos muttered when Porthos raised an eyebrow, glaring at it like it was a snake. "He's a bit flamboyant."

He vanished back into the bedroom while Porthos changed in the bathroom, tossing his soaked clothes into the tub before they could spoil the shag carpet of the living room even more. The clothes were a bit small, but they were warm and dry.

Athos was already out when he arrived, wearing baggy sweats and an equally bright hoodie. His expression dared Porthos to ask.

"I'm ordering pizza," he said as Porthos at down, feeling a bit nervous. "Would you care to join me? Alphonse can take you home after."

Porthos allowed himself to smile, reading a bit more than an innocent invitation in Athos's blue eyes.

"Pizza sounds great," he said. He noticed a Wii hooked up to the TV and grinned as an idea struck him. "You got Mario Kart?" A nod. "Wanna play?"

"You sure your wrist can take it?" Athos shot back.

"I c'n still kick your ass."

This won him a true smile from Athos, whose eyes were suddenly alight with something far less sophisticated. He looked like a little kid. "You're on."

Porthos laughed as he hurriedly booted up the system. Maybe this storm hadn't been the worst thing ever happen to him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - Meeting again at a high school reunion
> 
> Tags: Portamis

Porthos scooped the plastic nametag off the table, sticking it through his jacket with a grimace. He hadn't wanted to come to this reunion, and now that he was here, it was clear he was woefully underdressed. There were people in goddamn suits.

He pushed through the doors, ignoring the chirpy women telling him where everything was. He vaguely recognized one or two as cheerleaders, but couldn't remember their names. He'd only been at the school senior year, after all, since his last set of foster parents had been in the town.

Besides, he'd been banned from the football team after only one practice. The coach had thought he was a bit scary, and Porthos hadn't done anything to dispel that.

Too scary for football. It had felt like quite the accomplishment. Now, he wondered if he should've made more of an effort to be approachable. He barely knew anyone here.

"Porthos!" a bright voice called, and he turned just in time to nearly be knocked to the floor by a giant hug.

"Eh, pup, what're you doin' here?" he asked, grinning broadly as he pounded D'Artagnan's back. "You ain't in my class."

The younger man ducked his head, smiling proudly. "I'm here with Constance," he explained.

"Constance? Wait… you two… are you two…?"

D'Artagnan grinned. "Engaged," he said proudly. "Since last month. You'll probably be getting a wedding invitation one of these days. If she ever decides when it's going to be."

"Never, if you keep making me sound like a bridezilla," Constance said, rapping the back of D'Artagnan's head as she appeared beside them. "It's wonderful to see you, Porthos! It's been forever!"

"Ah, five years ain't that long," he scoffed, hugging her, but privately he found her enthusiasm touching. He should've made more of an effort to keep up with old friends, but it had been so hard in the army to stay in touch. He vowed to try harder now. "Anyone else 'ere worth talkin' to?"

They exchanged a look. "Well," Constance began, "there's one person who'll be very pleased to see you…"

"Come on!" D'Artagnan cried, grabbing Porthos's arm and dragging him towards what looked like a bar. Porthos wondered how he'd missed that upon entering.

"Aramis, look who I found!" D'Artagnan shouted. Porthos's heart plummeted into his stomach.

Shit.

"Thought he was livin' in Spain?" he whispered desperately to Constance as D'Artagnan let go of him and vanished into the crowd.

"He just moved back," Constance said. "Why?"

"No reason." Porthos wondered how ridiculous he would look if he just turned and ran. He'd promised Aramis he would write and he never had. Not once in five years had he called him. There had been too much unresolved between them. He'd never expected to see him again.

One moment he was contemplating how best to flee, and the next he was staggering back as someone all but leapt into his arms.

"Porthos!" Aramis cried, sounding absolutely delighted. Porthos's arms tightened unconsciously around his waist, keeping Aramis from falling as he stumbled back a few steps.

"Hey," he said lamely. Aramis was beaming up at him and damn, he'd gotten a hundred times hotter since Porthos had seen him the night before he left for boot camp.

They'd hugged that night too. Then hugging had led to something more, and Porthos had left and never called again.

He was the world's worst human being.

"Where have you been?" Aramis asked, still smiling like his every wish had been granted. His hand rested on Porthos's forearm, keeping Porthos's own firmly on his waist. "After you left I never heard from you again!"

"Yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that," Porthos muttered, cheeks burning. How was he still so tongue-tied after five years? It was senior year all over again, and he was hopelessly in love with his best friend.

"I'm sure you were busy," Aramis said, but his smile was sad now. Porthos suddenly hated himself for putting that there.

"S'not an excuse," Porthos mumbled.

Aramis looked at him intently for a moment before smiling again, apparently satisfied. "No matter. You're here now."

"What about you?" Porthos asked, allowing Aramis to tug him toward a small table. He realized Aramis hadn't stopped touching him yet. "Thought you were in Spain."

"I was. But after a while I realized I had nothing there worth staying for, and with this coming up, I thought maybe there'd be something to come back to," he said softly. Porthos was blown away by his hopeful expression.

He wasn't… he couldn't be talking about him, could he? No, that was impossible. Right?

But Aramis's leg kept brushing his under the table, and the memory of that last night kept playing in his mind. Aramis's voice when he'd made Porthos promise to write. All these years he'd thought he'd blown it. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late to salvage something.

"So you're back for good?" Porthos asked, praying he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He took a risk and let his hand fall to rest on Aramis's knee and was rewarded with another blinding smile.

"It seems so," Aramis said. "Give me your hand."

Porthos frowned but obeyed, chuckling when Aramis pulled a sharpie out of his pocket and scrawled something across his palm. "What's that then?"

"My number," Aramis said. "So you don't disappear on me again."

"I ain't going anywhere," Porthos told him, surprised at how much he meant it. He'd been drifting since he left the army. It would be nice to have a home. Especially one near Aramis. "'Cept maybe to get us some drinks. But first…" He grabbed the sharpie and wrote his own number on Aramis's hand. "There. Now you c'n hunt me down."

"I have missed you," Aramis said softly.

Porthos swallowed hard. "Yeah, me too."

He went to get up to fetch the promised drinks, but suddenly Aramis's hand shot out. "Better make that three," he said, grinning.

"Why?"

"Athos just walked in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - Teacher/student
> 
> Tags: Portamis

"I'll let you know by the end of the week whether you've got the job. You can go." The boy flashed him an arrogant smile and left, slamming the door behind him.

Aramis sighed and dropped his head into his hands. Finding a TA was supposed to be easy. And yet the only people coming to interview seemed to be underqualified, too shy, or assholes. He'd sent away three undergraduates, even though the job description specifically stated he was looking for a grad student.

It was because he was a new professor. It had to be. He was young and untried and no one wanted to work for him. The grad students were probably flocking to work for Professor Goddard, the popular head of the English department. Aramis felt a bit like the last kid picked for gym class.

"S'this room 118?" someone asked. Aramis looked up and found his gaze caught by eyes so dark they were almost black.

"Uh, yes, it is," he said, wrenching his gaze away before he started to look like a creep. "Why?"

"I'm 'ere about the job." The young man gave an awkward shrug. "Dunno what you're lookin' for, exactly, but I thought I'd give it a shot."

"Oh," Aramis said eloquently. "Right. Come in, then."

God, he was making a fool of himself. How had he not considered that some of the applicants might well be attractive?

"Have a seat," he said, motioning towards the only chair not covered with paperwork. "What's your name?"

"Porthos du Vallon." The man reached across the desk to shake Aramis's hand. He tried not to notice how strong his grip was.

Oh, he was in so much trouble here.

"Are you French?" The words slipped out before he could consider them. _Stupid_ , he chided himself. _You're interviewing him, not chatting him up._

Porthos gave him a broad grin. " _Mais oui_. Fluent in French, professor."

"Oh, yes, me too," Aramis stammered, cursing himself for the inappropriate thoughts that had flashed through his mind when Porthos's rough voice had wrapped around the simple phrase. "And please, call me Aramis. 'Professor' makes me feel old."

"Rubbish," Porthos said cheerfully. "You ain't a day over 28."

Aramis nearly winked at him before he caught himself. "Well, Porthos, what makes you think you're right for this position?" he asked, throwing up a wall of professionalism.

Porthos grinned and launched into a passionate speech about his graduate work in Shakespearean studies. Aramis nodded along and tried to focus on his words rather than the way his eyes had lit up with enthusiasm.

Aramis stopped him after about five minutes. "I think it's safe to say I've heard all I need to," he said. "You've got the job."

And wouldn't that just be hell, working with a student this blindingly attractive, but Porthos was the best of the applicants he'd had today and his office hours were over.

"Really?" Porthos asked, excitement gleaming in his dark eyes. "Fantastic. Thank you so much, prof- Aramis."

"Don't thank me yet," he said, chuckling. "Wait until you see the pile of papers you'll have to grade."

Porthos just smiled at him, undaunted, so Aramis huffed a laugh and went over the expectations and duties of a TA. He found himself going into unnecessary detail, loath to let Porthos leave.

Eventually, though, he'd handed over all the handbooks and paper work, and Porthos was getting to his feet. Aramis stood too and noticed with a pleased sort of shiver that Porthos was half a head taller than him.

"We'll need to meet again before class to go over protocol for the discussion sections, but we can set that up next week," Aramis said, his hand enveloped in Porthos's massive one once again.

"Right. It's gonna be a real pleasure workin' with you," Porthos said, grinning. "Have a good one."

"You too," Aramis said lamely, watching Porthos leave. He slumped down in his chair as soon as he was out of sight, banging his head down against the desk. He'd sworn when he decided to teach not to be one of those professors that slept with his students, but Porthos was making him seriously question that decision. But then, he hadn't seemed that interested.

Aramis was just going to have to get used to frustration.

He thumped his head down on the desk again. "Better not do that. It'd be a shame to bruise that pretty face."

Aramis's head snapped up to find Porthos leaning in the doorway, a broad grin on his face. "How long were you standing there?"

"Better question s'how long it took me to work up the courage to come back an' ask if you wanted to grab a drink," Porthos said, still grinning. "So, wanna grab a drink?"

"You're very forward," Aramis told him, feeling an answering smile creep across his face. Perhaps he wasn't delusional after all. "I believe that might be against the rules."

"Your office hours're over," Porthos shrugged. "Ain't school business anymore. 'Sides, you don't look the type to care too much about rules." His smile turned hopeful. "Please say I'm right."

"You're right," Aramis chuckled. "Isn't it usually the teacher who swoops down on the unsuspecting student and ravishes them?"  
"I ain't opposed," Porthos said, his smile darkening a bit, and Aramis swallowed hard as his brain processed what he'd just said.

"I, uh, I didn't… drinks?" he asked weakly, hoping his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. He wasn't usually this easily flustered.

"Drinks," Porthos agreed, grabbing Aramis's coat from the door and holding it out to him. "I know a good bar."

Aramis dutifully pulled on his jacket and followed him out.

"Now," Porthos said seriously. "We got two choices. I c'n bore you a while more with stuff about Shakespeare while we both pretend to be interested, or we c'n skip the formalities and call it a date straight off."

Aramis laughed aloud, impressed and attracted by the confidence. "Very well. It's a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - Lifeguards/saving the other as a lifeguard
> 
> Tags: Established Portamis, implied eventual OT3

"I am NOT going in there."

"Aw, babe, don't be like that," Porthos called. He was already ankle deep in the surf, looking like Poseidon risen from the sea.

Aramis glared at him. "You promised not to drag me in the water," he protested.

"I ain't draggin' you," Porthos said patiently. "Just askin' you to come and swim with me for a bit. S'hot."

"I'm not hot," Aramis muttered petulantly, aware that his hair was plastered to his forehead from the heat.

Porthos just laughed. "C'mon, babe, please," he wheedled. "It'll be fun."

Aramis sighed and stepped onto the wet sand. A wave washed over his feet and he leapt back, yelling a curse, but Porthos caught him around the waist and pulled him flush against his chest, clapping a hand over his mouth.

"This's a family beach," he scolded.

Aramis licked his hand until he removed it. "It's cold," he wailed.

Porthos rolled his eyes. "Babe, you're actin' like a kid, and the hot lifeguard's watchin'." He nodded towards the lifeguard station further up the beach. The dark head was indeed turned in their direction.

"Well," Aramis grinned. "I'd hate to disappoint my audience."

Porthos chuckled and pulled him into the waves. Aramis made a face at the frigid temperature but didn't complain again until they were waist deep.

"Porthos!" he cried, clinging to his boyfriend's shoulders. "There's a giant wave coming!"

Porthos laughed, turning his back on the wave and pulling Aramis against him. It crashed against his back, rocking them both, but Aramis ducked his head against Porthos's chest and avoided the worst of the spray.

"Thought we were gonna swim?" Amusement glittering in Porthos's eyes.

"It's more fun when you save me," Aramis murmured, stretching up to kiss Porthos's jaw.

A laugh rumbled against his chest. "Swim, menace."

Aramis yelped when Porthos pushed him away, floundering in the water. Porthos shot him a wicked grin and drew his arm back.

"Don't you dare!" Aramis shouted, lunging away too slowly to avoid the deluge Porthos sent his way. " _Bastardo_!"

He whirled and sent a wave of water at Porthos in retaliation. It hit in tandem with a wave at his back, bowling Porthos over. He emerged from the water with revenge on his face.

After a while, Aramis stopped feeling the cold. He was wading through the waves, enjoying the feel of the sand under his feet. Porthos had swum a hundred yards down the beach, waving cheerfully at him before he leapt back in the waves to swim back. Aramis's hair was soaked and his eyes burned from the salt, but he had to admit this was fun.

It stopped being fun when pain arced up his leg and the water around his foot turned red.

"Ahhh, shit," he shouted, leaping back awkwardly and trying to lift his foot above the water to see what had just impaled him. Somebody was whistling on the beach, but he couldn't turn to see why. He managed to lift his leg up just in time to be struck by a rogue wave, tumbling backwards into the water.

He lost all sense of where the surface was, buffeted by the currents. He swallowed a few gulps of water as he kicked uselessly. Then a hand closed around the nape of his neck and pulled him up.

He blinked seawater from his eyes and looked up to find the handsome lifeguard glaring at him. "Didn't you hear me whistling?" he asked angrily. "You were almost swept out."

"I was more concerned with the fact that my foot was bleeding everywhere," Aramis told him between racking coughs.

"Is it? Shit," the man sighed. Dark blue eyes peered down into the water. "Let's get you in before you start attracting sharks."

"Sharks?" Aramis cried, looking around nervously.

The man heaved a long suffering sigh, pulling Aramis's arm around his shoulders. "I was joking. Mostly. Come on."

Their progress to shore was slow and painful, but eventually the man let Aramis sink onto the sand above where the waves were breaking. A long sliver of glass was embedded in his foot.

"Wait here. I'll grab my med kit," the lifeguard sighed. "Don't do anything stupid."

He vanished in the direction of the tower. Aramis was on the verge of pulling out the glass himself when heavy hands landed on his shoulders.

"Hey, you alright?" Porthos asked, tipping his chin up to look him over with a concerned expression. "I shouldn't've left you."

"You didn't put the glass there, _querido_ ," Aramis chuckled. "I'm fine."

"Could you please get out of my way," a cool voice asked from over Porthos's shoulder.

Porthos bristled, whirling around. "Who the hell are you?"

Calm blue eyes met Aramis's over Porthos's shoulder before they flicked upwards. "The lifeguard," he said evenly. "Who are you?"

"The boyfriend," Porthos growled, but he stood aside enough to let the man by.

"Thanks for the, ah, 'rescue,'" Aramis said, smiling up at him. "I'm Aramis. This overprotective oaf is Porthos."

Blue eyes flicked to his. "Athos," he said succinctly, pulling out a pair of tweezers.

"Well, Athos, why don't you let me do that. I'm an EMT, after all," Aramis said easily, plucking the tweezers from Athos's fingers. It was the work of a moment to pull the glass free and wrap gauze around the injury, Porthos's hand a comforting weight on his shoulder.

"It needs stitches," Athos said firmly. "I'll call up a replacement and take you to the hospital."

Porthos opened his mouth, probably to tell Athos that he could handle it, but Aramis cut him off. "That would be perfect," he said, winking at Porthos over Athos's shoulder.

Porthos shook his head fondly and leaned down to help him up. "Don't give me that look," Aramis whispered, allowing Porthos to half carry him up the beach. "You think he's cute too."

Porthos's only reply was a snort, but his eyes lingered on Athos's ass as he led them towards the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 - Wearing each other's clothes
> 
> Tags: Established OT3, ridiculous amounts of fluff

"Athos, you seen my t-shirt?" Porthos called, shifting through the pile of laundry he'd flung on the floor the night before. They'd needed the bed for… other activities.

"No," Athos groaned, pulling the covers over his head. "Ask Aramis."

"He left already," Porthos growled. "'M gonna be late!"

"Wear mine," Athos muttered. "And be quiet. S'Monday. Too early for words." He mumbled grouchily into his pillow about 'inconsiderate oafs' and 'boyfriends being more trouble than they're worth.'

Porthos snagged Athos's black tee from the pile, bending down to press a sloppy kiss to Athos's cheek before leaving in search of his combat boots. Athos's mock groan chased him down the hallway.

By the next Monday, Porthos had lost two more t-shirts and three pairs of boxers. They must be in the apartment somewhere. Maybe they were lost among the unpacked boxes from when they'd moved into the new apartment

Tuesday night, Athos stomped into the living room after work. Porthos raised a hasty hand to shush him before he could start speaking, gesturing down to where Aramis was dozing against his chest.

"My favorite sweater is missing," Athos muttered, keeping his voice low as a hand stole out to stroke Aramis's hair. "I needed it for work this morning."

"Why're you telling me?" Porthos asked, frowning. "I didn't take it."

"I didn't think you had. But somehow it's gone. You did the laundry last week. Are you sure you didn't lose anything?"

"I don't think so," Porthos whispered. "But I coulda left something in the machine, I 'spose. I'll check next time, okay?"

Athos eyed him darkly. "Fine." He went to turn away, but Porthos caught his wrist. "You just gonna abandon us?" he asked playfully, tugging Athos back. A small grin played about Athos's lips.

"I was going to order dinner," he told Porthos. "But if you'd rather not eat…"

Porthos paused a moment, weighing food against the pleasure of having Athos and Aramis in his arms at the same time. A sharp tug drew Athos down against his side. "I ain't hungry anyway."

Athos chuckled, settling against Porthos's side. Aramis shifted drowsily, throwing an arm out to wrap around Athos's waist and blinking up at them.

"You stayin' here tonight?" Porthos asked him. Aramis nodded. "You shoulda moved in last week. Why'd we leave you 'til last again?"

"Because Aramis has the most stuff," Athos said dryly. Aramis pouted up at him. Porthos gave in to temptation and leaned down, kissing him soundly.

They skipped dinner that night.

Thursday night, Porthos did laundry again. They'd decided the first week that Athos couldn't be trusted with it. Porthos wanted to avoid any more undershirts being dyed pink because Athos didn't know how to wash colors.

He checked when the dryer dinged that every piece of clothing that had gone in came out again. He left the basket by the bedroom door before he joined the others in bed.

Porthos and Athos both overslept the next morning, waking to find Aramis had already left. They scrambled for clothes, pawing through the clean laundry like madmen.

"My hoodie's gone!" Porthos growled, tossing Athos his jeans. "What the fuck?"

"You're sure it was there?" Athos asked, trying to make his hair look less like a wild animal had perched on his head.

"Yes!"  
Athos shot him a look, amusement glittering in his eyes. "I think you'll find it sooner or later."

Porthos caught sight of the clock before he could ask what Athos meant. Cursing, he darted from the room and hurried to work.

He picked Athos up after work in his pickup truck and they headed over to Aramis's apartment. They'd move some stuff tonight and grab the rest tomorrow. They walked into a warzone. Half-full boxes balanced precariously on the sofa and newspapers were strewn across the floor like a second carpet.

"Oi! Aramis! Thought you were done packin'?" Porthos called incredulously.

"Sorry!" came the frenzied reply from the direction of the bedroom. "I may have procrastinated for a bit too long!"

Porthos and Athos pushed their way through the mess until they reached the doorway to the bedroom. Aramis was scurrying around, tossing piles of clothes into boxes. He looked around at them, eyes wide and pleading. "Help me."

Athos heaved a sigh and began helping Aramis ferry clothes from the closet. Porthos snorted and moved towards the dresser, snatching a kiss from Aramis as he went by. There was no time for finesse here: he simply pulled the whole top drawer out and upended it into the nearest box.

He was just opening the final drawer when Aramis cried, "No, wait! Don't go in there."

Porthos immediately pulled it out.

"What the fuck? This is mine!" he said indignantly, pulling out his ragged Cubs hoodie. "Why've you got this?"

Aramis was watching him with the same expression as a mouse that has just spotted a cat. "Ummm…"

"And this is Athos's!" He tossed Athos the terribly ugly sweater he'd had as long as Porthos had known him. "You're the one that's been stealin' our clothes!"

Aramis was watching him in mortified terror. "Hang on, that's mine too!" Porthos rose to his feet and strode over. Aramis watched him uncertainly, fingers twisting the hem of Porthos's Northwestern t-shirt.

"A bit less accusation might be nice, Porthos," Athos put in, smiling slightly.

Porthos glanced at Aramis's reddened cheeks. "Oh. Right. I mean, it's fine if you wanna, you know, wear my clothes. They, uh," he paused, looking Aramis up and down. "They look good on you. But just ask, yeah?"

"Okay," Aramis murmured, smirking now. "They look good on me, do they?"  
"Shut up," Porthos growled, swiping playfully at him. Aramis danced out of reach and collided with Athos, who promptly used his sweater to trap him.

"Gentlemen, I thought you were going to help me pack my clothes," Aramis said, slightly breathless.

Porthos met Athos's eyes over Aramis's head. "Right now we're more concerned about gettin' you outta them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 - Being locked in a room or trapped in a small space
> 
> Tags: OT3, Constagnan

"Remind me how we got here, again?"

"It was D'Artagnan's fault!" Aramis said quickly, ignoring the glare the boy sent him.

"It was not!" he cried, his voice muffled. He was pressed to Porthos's side,

squashed against the wall. "You're the one who wanted to explore!"

"Well, Athos let the door close behind us," Aramis said petulantly, wriggling around to glare at Athos. He was forced to abort a moment later, when Athos's glare proved far more intimidating than his own.

"Who thought explorin' a closet was a good idea anyway?" Porthos huffed, shifting. "And I don't recall volunteerin' to be a chair, either."

"Hush," Aramis said, batting him on the nose. Porthos's arms tightened around his waist. "And it's not a closet. It's probably a pantry."

"S'just a fancy word for closet," Porthos grumbled.

"Why has Athos got the most space?" D'Artagnan whined, peering around Porthos to where Athos was sat by the door. He had about an inch of space on either side of him, more than the rest of them had.

"Because I got to Porthos first?" Aramis suggested, smirking triumphantly.

"Because Athos didn't want to come down here in the first place," Athos muttered darkly. "This was a terrible idea."

"But we're here for my wedding!" D'Artagnan moaned. "I should have more space. You're crushing me!"

"So?" Aramis asked. "Unless you're the bride, you get no special treatment."

"He's right, you know," Athos chimed in, smirking.

"Everyone knows tha'," Porthos nodded.

"I hate you all," D'Artagnan said bitterly. "I'm going to be a pancake for my own wedding tomorrow. I should've known letting Aramis talk me into having you all as my 'best man' was going to bring me nothing but trouble."

"Oi, that's a bit unfair," Porthos protested.

"Indeed," Athos added. "Aramis is the only one who's done anything wrong. Wasn't it Aramis's idea to leave our phones behind, as well? Something about 'bonding'?"

D'Artagnan stared up at Aramis thoughtfully. "You're right," he said after a moment. "Aramis, you are no longer my best man."

"What!" Aramis cried indignantly. "I planned more of this wedding than you did!"

D'Artagnan gave him a stern look. It was like watching a puppy try to imitate Athos.

"Fine, be like that," Aramis said sulkily, burrowing down against Porthos's chest until he could hide his face against his neck. "I don't like any of you anyway."

Porthos's laugh rumbled through his whole body.

They sat in silence for a while. D'Artagnan chipped idly at the wall while Athos did his best to fall asleep. Porthos lost the battle with boredom first. "Anyone wanna play 20 Questions?"

Athos groaned, knocking his head against the wall, but Aramis and D'Artagnan both agreed readily. Anything to break the monotony.

Twenty minutes later, they all bitterly regretted it.

"That's not a real animal!" Porthos shouted.

"We never said it had to be real!" D'Artagnan shot back.  
"S'not even an animal. It's a fuckin' alien life form!" Porthos growled.

"Shut up, both of you!" Athos suddenly snapped. "D'Artagnan, an Ewok is not a real animal. They do not live on Earth, so you lied when they said they could be found in North America. Quite blatantly. Porthos, you suggested this game. You've no one to blame but yourself."

D'Artagnan flopped back against the wall, glaring at them all. Porthos shifted until his lips brushed Aramis's ear. "You couldn't figure it out either, right?" he asked softly. Aramis chuckled and shook his head, about to cuddle up to Porthos's chest again when he caught Porthos wincing.

"What?" he asked, freezing.

"S'nothin'," Porthos said quickly.

"Obviously his legs are going to sleep," Athos said dryly. "He's just being overly considerate again. Get off, Aramis."

"And go where?" Aramis asked, levering himself off Porthos's lap uncertainly. Porthos tried to tug him back down, but Aramis just glared at him. "No, stop, I'm not going to cut off your circulation for the sake of my comfort, you idiot."

He straightened, standing awkwardly in the cramped space. There was no space left to sit down without being on top of someone. He sighed and leaned back against the wall, resigned to standing for a while.

And then a hand was in his pocket, yanking him downward, and suddenly he was sprawled across Athos's lap. He caught Porthos's surprised expression and glanced up at Athos.

Unlike Aramis and Porthos, Athos normally avoided displays of affection when not at home. He'd only recently given them permission to tell D'Artagnan and their other friends that they were dating, even though they'd all moved in together weeks before. This was actually a rather impressive step for him.

Athos looked down at him and simply arched an eyebrow, smirking.

Aramis laughed and snuggled up against Athos, who nodded at Porthos to shift over next to them, tossing an arm around Athos's shoulders and allowing D'Artagnan some breathing room. The boy was watching them with wide eyes, but thankfully he didn't comment on the unexpected display.

Aramis was beginning to doze off in Athos's arms when footsteps reverberated through the floor. D'Artagnan looked over at them with wide eyes. "It's a ghost!" he whispered, utterly terrified.

Then they heard Constance's voice through the door. "Are you idiots down here!" she shouted.

Aramis looked over at D'Artagnan and mouthed 'a ghost' teasingly before he called out, "Yes, my dear lady. Please rescue us!"

A moment later Constance pulled the door open, staring down at them.

"Where the hell have you been!" she demanded, pulled Aramis to his feet and shoving him into the hallway before diving in after D'Artagnan. "I'm not running this wedding alone!"

Athos and Porthos followed Aramis out. He leaned happily against Porthos's chest, slipping one arm around Athos's waist as Constance gave D'Artagnan a quick kiss before dragging him off to look at ties.

D'Artagnan shot Aramis a desperate look as he went past. "I take it back. You're my best man again! Help me!"

Aramis laughed and leapt to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 - Exes meeting again after not speaking for years
> 
> Tags: Portamis, Constagnan, mention of Athos/Ninon

"I say you should go for it," Aramis said dreamily. "Love is a wonderful thing. A companion for life, as it were."

"Christ, Aramis," Porthos snorted. "The boy wants to ask 'er out, not marry 'er!"

"Um, well…" D'Artagnan began. He regretted it instantly when Aramis pounced.

"He does want to marry her!" Aramis cried gleefully, jumping to his feet in excitement and practically skipping about the room. "You heard him! Oh, this is wonderful, I'll call her immediately!"

"Calm down, you overinvolved menace," Porthos growled fondly, one arm catching Aramis around the waist as he pranced by and pulling him down into his lap. "Let the boy go at his own speed, eh?"

"Actually, soon would be better," D'Artagnan admitted.

"See!" Aramis crowed, struggling to free himself from Porthos's embrace to grab his phone. Porthos chuckled and held on tighter. "Release me, heathen!"

"Nah, I think our lad oughta call 'er 'imself," Porthos said, grinning wickedly. D'Artagnan swallowed hard.

Aramis rolled his eyes and twisted suddenly in Porthos's arms, grabbing the collar of his jacket and dragging him in for a kiss that made D'Artagnan groan and bury his face in his hands. "Guys, I'm right here," he said piteously.

A triumphant cry jerked his head back up in time to see Aramis dancing away with Porthos's phone in his hands. "Oi, you rotten little pickpocket, get back 'ere!" Porthos shouted, leaping to his feet in pursuit.

D'Artagnan moaned and collapsed back against the sofa. They'd be gone for ages now. He'd be lucky if they didn't have sex in his bedroom or something equally traumatizing.

"She'll be at the restaurant in an hour," Athos said suddenly. D'Artagnan looked around in surprise. He'd forgotten Athos was there, quietly scrolling through his laptop at the kitchen table.

"What?" he asked blankly.

Athos glanced at him. "I said she'll be there in an hour. Don't be late." When D'Artagnan continued to stare at him, he rolled his eyes. "Did you think Aramis and Porthos were the only ones who stayed in touch with her?"

"An hour?" D'Artagnan's voice sounded strangled even to his own ears, anxiety twisting his stomach. "That's so soon!" He stared at a stain on the arm of the couch for a moment. "Do you think she'll even be interested?"

"I think she-" a loud thump cut Athos off, and he sent a dirty look at the ceiling. "Animals. I think she agreed to go. Why would she do that, if she weren't interested?"

"But she was married for so long," D'Artagnan said mournfully. "I wasn't good enough for her to marry."

"First of all, when you broke up, you were 17 and she was leaving for college," Athos said sternly. "Don't give me any of that 'I wasn't good enough' bullshit. I'll sic Aramis on you. You don't want that speech, do you?"

D'Artagnan shook his head frantically. "I didn't think so. Second, she _divorced_ that bastard. In my experience, divorce is usually a sign of serious incompatibility." A wry smirk accompanied the last word. "You'll be fine. She's a fool if she turns you away."

D'Artagnan grinned. "Thanks, Athos." He paused for a minute, watching Athos steadfastly staring at his computer screen, and asked slyly, "So, how are things with Ninon?"

Athos sent him a distinctly unimpressed look. "The restaurant is on the other side of town. I believe I told you not to be late," he said sternly, looking pointedly at the clock.

D'Artagnan jumped up with a yelp, scrambling for a jacket as he ran out the door.

The subway would be crowded, so he caught a cab and threw money at the driver to get him there as fast as possible. He spent the whole ride checking his reflection in the window and wondering if she would think he looked different.

Would she look different? He'd seen one or two pictures, but Aramis had ordered him not to stalk her on social media after she left. The last time he'd checked in had been his senior year of college. He'd managed not to pine quite well, he thought.

But, as Aramis had pointed out, meeting her again for the first time at Aramis and Porthos's wedding in three weeks would be more awkward than this. And, more importantly she was finally single again.

He leapt out of the cab as soon as it hit the curb. He was about to dash in the restaurant when a flower seller caught his eye. He grinned and grabbed a bouquet, tossing the owner some money and managing to walk calmly through the doors.

And straight into someone waiting just inside.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" he babbled, collecting fallen flowers with one hand while trying to help them up with his other.

"Still clumsy, I see." He froze, taking in the mass of auburn curls, the bright smile, the blue eyes alight with mirth.

"Constance," he breathed. "I, uh… these are for you." He thrust the bouquet at her, flowers now protruding in all directions. "I, just, oh god, this went so much better in my head." He was ready to sink through the floor from utter embarrassment.

Warm fingers reached out and plucked the pale purple flowers from his hand. "Thank you, D'Artagnan," she said, obviously biting back a laugh. "They're beautiful."

He might have turned and fled right then had her smile not been as warm and inviting as it always had been.

"Shall we, uh, go in?" he stammered.

"Lead the way," she chuckled, arranging the flowers into a passable bouquet once more.

In a fit of gallantry, D'Artagnan tried out a move he'd seen Aramis pull off once and offered her his arm. Constance smiled again and took it, and this time the smile was softer, more private. It was the smile she'd worn when they danced at prom.

D'Artagnan took a deep breath and walked into the restaurant with the love of his life, thanking his lucky stars for a second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one did not go as planned, but the idea was too cute to pass up! And I needed more Constagnan in my life ;)
> 
> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 - Staffroom/water cooler moment
> 
> Tags: No ships or pairings but Portamis/OT3 if you squint

"What do you mean the repairman can't come until next week?" Athos growled at his assistant. "I need it fixed now." He fixed the boy with his best glare, hoping it would inspire further effort, but all he received was an amused grin.

"They're booked up. Don't give me that look; you know you don't scare me anymore," D'Artagnan said, chuckling. "You can just use the employee fridge for the week, can't you? The rest of us make do without private kitchenettes."

'Kitchenette' was a strong word for the tiny closet where Athos had installed a mini fridge and microwave, but it did keep him from having to socialize with the rest of the company.

"Use the communal break room?" Athos asked disdainfully. "No. I'm the Vice President. I can't be seen down there."

D'Artagnan shrugged. "Suit yourself. But unless you want to go bug Treville to let you use his, you'd better get used to eating out every lunch until it gets fixed."

Curse Treville for making a rule that Athos couldn't use D'Artagnan to fetch his lunch anymore. He silently weighed the horror of going out in public every day to eat over the awkwardness of using the usually deserted employee break room. D'Artagnan was already smiling smugly when Athos gave a heavy sigh. "Fine. Empty the fridge and bring it all down to the break room. Make sure to put my name on it."

D'Artagnan gave him a mock salute and vanished. "And when did you get so disrespectful!" Athos called after him. A laugh floated back and he shook his head. Truth be told, he liked that the lad was the only person in the company, apart from Treville, who wasn't intimidated by him.

He managed to put off his lunch for as long as possible, throwing himself into the stack of paperwork on his desk, but eventually his stomach began to growl. He glanced up at the clock and saw it was past 2. The break room would probably be all but empty.

He rose to his feet and stalked from the room. D'Artagnan sent him a cheeky smile as he passed, not bothering to pretend he wasn't scrolling through Tumblr. Athos ignored him and made the trek to the break room on the other side of the building.

To his relief, it was empty. He grabbed some of his food from the fridge, rolling his eyes at the sticky note affixed to the front. D'Artagnan had scrawled, "Property of Athos. Don't touch, peasants."

Just the image he wanted to send. As if he weren't already scary enough.

He jammed the container in the microwave and drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter. The sooner it was warm, the sooner he could eat and get back to his office.

The timer dinged. He was just pulling open the door when someone came barreling into the break room and crashed into him from behind.

He had a split second to choose between saving his food or saving the man dangerously close to slamming his head on the counter.

With a muttered curse, Athos grabbed the man's arm and yanked him upright, casting a mournful look at the delicious risotto now splattered across the floor.

"Sorry, sorry," the man said breathlessly, already scrambling to his feet and dodging behind Athos. He nearly hit the floor again when his feet skidded in the risotto, but he seemed unconcerned, eyes fixed on the door. His hands found Athos's shoulders, using him as a human shield.

A moment later it slammed open again and a huge man with a blinding grin charged through it. His eyes fixed on Athos's face and Athos read the recognition in them. His smile dimmed, but did not disappear. The muscles in his arms and chest were visible through his shirt. "He givin' you trouble, sir?" he asked, smirking a bit.

The man behind Athos seemed to finally realize who he was, stepping back with apologetic laugh. "Sorry about the mess, boss. I'll take care of it." He shot the larger man a glare. "This is a wonderful first impression."

"Should I be concerned that my employees are rampaging through the office like wild creatures?" Athos asked dryly, finding his voice at last. The smaller man, whom Athos now saw was rather handsome, shot him a look and then grinned, recognizing the humor where most would simply have been cowed. It was fascinating.

"Nah, don't worry yourself," the larger man chuckled. "The name's Porthos. The hellion is Aramis. S'our first day. Orientation. We just got off."

"We transferred from the LA office," Aramis told him, laying a tanned hand on Athos's shoulder and directing him away from the spilled risotto. "Please don't fire us."

Athos shot him a sharp look and realized Aramis was actually teasing him. Even D'Artagnan was careful about that. These two didn't seem remotely intimidated by him.

He was a bit surprised to find he enjoyed the feeling.

Porthos stepped forward suddenly and Aramis yelped, darting behind Athos once more. "Give 'em back, menace," Porthos growled.

"What's he got?" Athos asked, curious despite himself.

"His car keys," Aramis said disdainfully. "He wants to eat at the same blasted diner we've gone to every day since we moved in. Enough is enough! They don't even have _wine_ , Porthos."

A sense of kinship struck Athos like lightning. He suddenly found he didn't want these two to vanish back into their separate lives. "There's a place down the street with an amazing wine list," he said before he could think it through. "I could take you."

Porthos looked at him thoughtfully, but Aramis's face had broken into a blinding smile. "Excellent! What are we waiting for?" He hooked one arm through Athos's and grabbed Porthos's hand, dragging them out the door.

Athos allowed himself a small smile. Maybe lunches this week wouldn't be miserable.

Next week, when the fridge was finally fixed, it was nobody's business but Athos's if he 'accidentally' broke it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 13 - Tourist/knowledgeable local
> 
> Tags: Portamis

Aramis was lost.

He'd tried flipping the map over, tipping his head to the side, even scrunching it up and opening it again fast, as if that would somehow help, but nothing seemed to work. He was starting to think the tiny town he was in wasn't even on this map.

With a groan, he shoved the useless thing into his pack, flopping down on a bench. He was utterly exhausted. He'd made it to what looked like a public park, but this town was so complicated and poorly organized that he hadn't found a single sign pointing him towards a hotel. And it was getting dark.

Glancing furtively around to check he was alone, he gave in to exhaustion and simply tipped over onto the bench, sliding his pack around for a pillow. It was cold, but he'd survive until morning. Provided no one arrested him. Or murdered him.

He'd barely closed his eyes when he heard a branch snap behind him. He sat bolt upright, whirling around to see a dark figure striding toward him. The lighting in the park was too dim to make out anything more than the prodigious width of the person's shoulders.

Aramis yelped and tumbled off the bench, landing hard on his wrist. It twisted awkwardly beneath him. He ignored it, trying to scramble to his feet, but before he could get up a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

_This is it_ , he thought bleakly. He braced himself for a knife to the kidneys.

"You alright?" a gruff voice asked, and then he was pulled to his feet with enough power to lift him clear off the ground for a moment.

He looked up warily and found himself confronted with a pair of chocolate brown eyes, narrowed with what looked like concern.

"Didn't mean to scare you," the gruff voice added. Aramis's eyes drifted down the man's face and he swallowed hard. No one should be that attractive. Especially not a stranger in a dark park (who could still be a serial killer, for all he knew).

"You didn't," he said, willing his voice to stay even. The man's hands were still on his shoulders. "Just startled me a bit."

The stranger's mouth quirked up at the corner. "Startled? S'that what it's called when someone leaps backwards so fast they fall over?"

Aramis flushed and shook the man's hands off angrily. "Yes, well, maybe if you didn't lurk in the shadows and creep up on people, they wouldn't be scared of you," he snapped before clapping a hand over his mouth. If this man was a serial killer, or even just a thief, his temper could get him in serious trouble.

But the man just raised his hands, laughing. "I wasn't creepin' or lurkin' or any o' those things," he chuckled. "Saw you from my apartment. Thought I oughta be a good citizen and make sure you didn't need 'elp. Which it seems you do. I'm Porthos."

He held out one massive hand. Aramis eyed him a moment longer, deciding he seemed trustworthy enough. He had a very open face. Or maybe it was just because he was attractive. Wouldn't be the first time Aramis's heart had led him to trouble.

"Aramis," he said at last, taking Porthos's hand, but he pulled away with a hiss when pain suddenly shot through his wrist.

"What's wrong?" Porthos asked, stepping forward and dropping a hand to Aramis's shoulder again. "You okay?"

"I fell funny on my wrist," Aramis confessed. "I think I sprained it. Can you just point me in the direction of the nearest hospital, please?"  
Porthos slid his hand down Aramis's arm, catching his wrist and turning it over to inspect it in the dim light. "We ain't got a hospital 'ere," he said apologetically. "Nearest one's two towns over."

Aramis slumped down on the bench in dismay. "Great," he muttered, pulling his hand back self-consciously. "First I get lost, and now this."

"You're lost?" Porthos asked, sitting down beside him. He sat close enough that his shoulder brushed Aramis's, and he was so warm that Aramis couldn't bring himself to do the proper thing and pull away. "Christ, you're freezin'." His arm went tentatively about Aramis's shoulders. Aramis gave a pleased sigh and snuggled closer, past caring about seeming too easy. He really was cold.

"I was supposed to pass through on my way to Paris, but my map is useless and now I've no idea where I am. This is what I get for going backpacking alone," he huffed.

"So you really were gonna sleep on this bench," Porthos exclaimed. "Nah, that won't do. S'freezin' out. C'mon."

He rose and hauled Aramis to his feet without waiting for an answer. "Where are we going?" Aramis asked.

"My place. I c'n wrap your wrist and give you a place to sleep, at least." He bent down and swung Aramis's pack over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

"I can't impose!" Aramis cried.

"Rubbish," Porthos snorted, hand landing on Aramis's shoulder once more to steer him towards his apartment. "S'the least I c'n do, since I'm the one that frightened you in the first place."

"I wasn't frightened," Aramis muttered petulantly.

"Sorry, startled," Porthos amended quickly. Aramis nodded in satisfaction and pressed closer to Porthos's warmth, sighing happily when Porthos slipped an arm around him again. "Besides, I make it a habit to never leave someone as pretty as you to freeze to death."

Aramis glanced up and found Porthos grinning down at him charmingly, eyes twinkling. "Is this the part where the stranger I met in a dark park takes me home and ravishes me?" he asked dryly, surprised at the warmth that burst in his stomach at the thought.

"Not until I get you fixed up," Porthos said, but his voice had roughened deliciously. "After that… well, that's totally up to you."

Aramis looked up at him, a wicked grin stealing across his face. "How far to your apartment?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 14 - It’s 3 am and I’m still in the library studying for finals and I’m losing my grip on reality and I think I just saw a ghost 
> 
> Tags: Portamis, Aramis is adorably flustered, Porthos will save him from the 'ghost'

When his head slammed down on his book for the fourth time in twenty minutes, Aramis decided that it was time for a coffee break.

He stood and made his way to the door of the private study room, kneading a kink from his back as he went. He pulled open the door and hesitated.

All the lights in the hallway were off.

"This is what I get for choosing the study room in fucking Purgatory," he muttered darkly. He'd picked the room for its privacy. He didn't really know why a library needed what amounted to an attic full of tiny study rooms, but they made for excellent spaces to study without distraction.

And Aramis was easily distracted.

He glanced at his watch, rubbing blearily at his eyes when he saw it was already past 3 AM. He still had three chapters to study for his Psychology class. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

Aramis pulled his phone out and flicked on the flashlight, heading towards the stairs and. walking the three flights down to the tiny Starbucks on the main floor. He ordered a double espresso and didn't even have the energy to wink at the handsome barista who smiled at him when he gave him his order.

Of course, the guy _had_ written his number on the cup. Aramis eyed it as he walked back up the stairs: he'd definitely be putting that in his phone. The guy's arms had been massive, and those eyes…

He reentered the dark hallway, fumbling for his phone with his left hand while trying not to spill his coffee. He flicked the app on and looked up to see something white and terrifying looming before him.

Logic abandoned him. With a shout, he flung his coffee and fled, scrambling back down the stairs. He didn't stop until he'd rushed through the doorway and saw the bright lights of the Starbucks flickering before him, the barista looking at him curiously. He collapsed against the wall, breathing deeply.

"You okay?" a deep voice called. Aramis waved a hand in a reassuring manner, heart still hammering in his chest. He felt his cheeks redden as he realized what a lunatic he must look right now.

The barista was now abandoning his post and coming over, concern written across handsome features. Aramis noted idly that an unusual scar crossed his left eye. He hadn't noticed it when he ordered.

"You look like you're bein' chased. Is someone threatenin' you?" the man asked. There was a concerned note in his voice, and Aramis suddenly knew, instinctively, that this man would start a fight just to keep someone safe. And with muscles like that, he'd win.

The thought calmed him enough to speak. "I, uh… I thought I saw a ghost," he admitted, dropping his gaze to the floor in utter humiliation. God what was wrong with him?

But the guy just chuckled, rigid stance relaxing. "Is that all? Thought I was gonna have to fight off a murderous ex or somethin'," he said, still grinning. "What happened to your coffee?"

"Threw it at the ghost," Aramis mumbled, blushing furiously.

"Good instincts," the guy said, patting him on the shoulder. His hand was warm. "I'll get you another. On the house."

"It's okay. I'm certainly awake now."

Dark eyes glanced at him. "But then how will I know you got my number?" the barista asked. His smile was like sunshine.

Aramis grinned, earlier discomfort vanishing. "Well, you could just give it to me," he said, earning another blinding grin. He reached for his phone and swore.

"What's wrong?"

"I, um, threw my phone at the ghost too."

The man threw his head back and laughed. Aramis stared for a moment, entranced. "Better go get it then," the guy told him.

Aramis glanced back at the stairs, dread forming in the pit of his stomach. "Oh, right. Uh, sure. I'll do that." He edged towards the door, jumping when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Warm eyes alight with laughter met his. "Lemme turn the lights off," the man chuckled. "I'll come with you. No one else 'ere to buy coffee anyway."

Aramis nodded, pathetically grateful, and waited for the barista to flick off the lights and lock the gate, tossing his apron behind the counter. "Alright, let's go. I'm Porthos, by the way. So you know what to put in the phone," he told Aramis, a wicked grin on his lips.

Aramis blinked furiously, pulling his gaze away with effort. Studying, he needed to study, not hook up with a barista in the attic.

Unless the barista suggested it first, of course.

As they made their way up the stairs, Aramis found himself inching closer to Porthos, half-hiding behind broad shoulders. If Porthos noticed, he didn't seem to mind.

They finally reached the door and Porthos pushed it open, tapping on his flashlight. When nothing showed up, Aramis gave him a sheepish grin and stepped forward, eyes dropping to search for his phone.

The light shifted. Aramis looked up and leapt back with an embarrassingly loud cry. He collided with Porthos, who grabbed him before they could both tumble over.

"Easy there. S'just a blackboard with a sheet on it," Porthos rumbled, rubbing his thumb over Aramis's knuckles. Aramis blushed when he realized he'd grabbed Porthos's hand like a frightened child.

"Sorry," he muttered as Porthos bent down and scooped up Aramis's phone, sliding it open and adding his number with a wink. He hadn't let go of Aramis's hand, and Aramis was in no hurry to pull away.

Porthos presented the phone with a flourish. "There you go."

"Thanks," Aramis said, giving him his most charming smile. "I really shouldn't keep you…"

"I got nowhere to be," Porthos said at once.

Aramis smirked victoriously. "Want to help me, ah, study?"

"If by study you mean make out."

Aramis chuckled happily and tugged Porthos's hand, leading him towards his study room. His midterm wasn't until tomorrow afternoon anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 15 - Awkward teenage spin the bottle/seven minutes in heaven
> 
> Tags: Portamis, Constagnan, (presumably) underage drinking

D'Artagnan fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt, wondering if he was making a huge mistake as he dropped onto the floor.

"Joinin' us, pup?" Porthos asked, slouching down next to him. He offered D'Artagnan a beer, which he accepted gratefully. "Don't look so frightened, I promise no one's gonna bite you."

"Unless you want them to," Aramis smirked from Porthos's other side. "We've very few rules in this game."

"Stop trying to scare him off," Athos said idly, smacking the back of Aramis's head as he settled in a chair behind him, outside of the circle but near enough to watch. Aramis just grinned at him and leaned back, using Athos's legs as a backrest.

Athos rolled his eyes but seemed too drunk to bother pushing Aramis off.

"Right, I got the bottle!" Flea said from the other side of the circle. D'Artagnan glanced over and felt his heart skip a beat when his eyes landed on Constance, smoothing out her skirt where she sat beside Flea. "Who's first?"

"Me," Aramis called easily, grabbing the bottle.

"Why're you even here?" Flea asked, shaking her head as Aramis positioned the bottle. "You got a boyfriend right next to you."

"I don't mind," Porthos chuckled, nudging Aramis's side with one knee. Aramis gave him a fleeting smile as he twisted the bottle expertly.

D'Artagnan took a quick gulp of his beer as he watched it spin with blinding speed. He was ready to bolt when it looked like it was slowing down at him, but it kept going a bit longer and landed on a pretty girl he'd never met.

Aramis looked indecently pleased, and the girl was already smiling as she rose. Porthos helped push Aramis to his feet when Aramis stumbled a bit, and then he was in the center of the circle, and his hands were on the girl's waist, and…

D'Artagnan looked at the floor, mortified. He'd made a terrible mistake. He couldn't kiss some random person like that, and the circle was too big for him to have a good chance of the bottle landing on Constance.

But he couldn't run now without looking like an idiot. Besides, a quick glance showed Constance was watching with interest.

"All right, that's enough," Porthos growled after the kiss had gone on for about thirty seconds. "Hands off my boyfriend." His hand darted out and snagged in Aramis's belt, hauling him back to his seat and pulling him down in Porthos's lap. The girl returned to her seat, flushed and looking pleased.

Behind them, Athos rolled his eyes heavenward and poured another glass of wine.

"My turn," Porthos said, grinning. Aramis passed him the bottle and Porthos spun it deftly, refusing to let Aramis up. Even D'Artagnan laughed when it landed right back where it had started, pointing directly at Porthos.

Aramis had twisted in Porthos's arms before anyone had time to do more than chuckle at the coincidence. The chuckles turned to titters and cleared throats when the pair refused to break apart after more than a minute.

"Get a room!" someone called teasingly. Athos let out a huge sigh and leaned forward, one hand fisting in the back of Aramis's collar and bodily dragging him back to his own spot, shaking him slightly when Aramis tried to dive back.

"Stay there or leave the game," Athos told him sternly. Aramis pouted but settled, sending sickeningly adoring looks at Porthos, who'd defied Athos's glare to grab Aramis's hand.

"It's D'Artagnan's turn!" Flea called. Porthos passed him the bottle and he spun it mechanically, praying under his breath for the bottle to land on Constance.

It stopped at Aramis.

His heart stopped as time seemed to freeze. Fuck. He was going to have to flee in disgrace.

Before he could move, Aramis was leaning around Porthos, braced against his lap, and then his lips were pressed against D'Artagnan's. It lasted only a few seconds before he pulled back, giving him a wink.

There were a few boos and calls about it being too short, but D'Artagnan was pathetically grateful that Aramis had taken pity on him. He shakily passed the bottle to the next person and sat back to watch, downing the remainder of his beer in one go and snatching another.

It didn't land on any of them again, much to D'Artagnan's relief and Aramis's disappointment. It hadn't landed on Constance, either, for which he was privately pleased.

And then at last it was her turn, and she was taking the bottle, silver rings glinting on her fingers, and it was spinning and D'Artagnan was drunk enough that he found it difficult to follow. So much so that it took Porthos pounding him on the back for him to realize it had stopped.

It had stopped on _him_.

He stared at it in shock and looked up. Constance was already rising to her feet. Terror pulsed through him for a moment (what if he messed up, what if she didn't want to kiss him, oh god) but then she smiled at him and his feet moved of their own accord, carrying him to the center of the circle.

Constance smiled at him again, flicking her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and then he was leaning in and pressing his lips clumsily against hers.

It was not his best display, but he felt as if sparks were erupting beneath his skin and he couldn't contain them. Without meaning to, he pushed closer. Constance's hands came up to his chest and he braced himself to be pushed away, but instead they fisted in his shirt, drawing him closer still.

She tasted like cinnamon.

When they finally broke apart, the whole circle cheered. Aramis gave him a ridiculous wink and even Athos looked a bit impressed.

"Well," Constance said breathlessly. "I think I'm done with this game. Fancy a drink?"

Elation pounding through him, he nodded and followed her from the circle to the cheers and catcalls of their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 16 - “Well, we’re both here to meet a mutual friend to hang out but they dropped out last second and this is awkward as shit, huh?”
> 
> Tags: Portamis

Porthos sat at the bar, drumming his fingers against the wood impatiently. Athos should've been here twenty minutes ago. He'd told Porthos he just needed to 'wrap up some details' with one of their clients

"Details," Porthos muttered darkly. "Yeah, he and Ms. de Larroque are discussin' _details_." He pulled out his phone and sent another angry text. He didn't expect a response, so he jumped when the phone buzzed almost instantly.

_Got held up. Sorry. Aramis isn't replying. Tell him I'm not coming._

Porthos glared at the bright screen. He had no idea what Aramis even looked like. Athos had invited him to come out for drinks tonight with an old friend, and Porthos had nothing better to do but stay in his apartment and unpack boxes, so he'd said yes. Athos was his only friend so far in the city, after all.

But maybe he ought to reconsider that after tonight.

He turned around on the bar stool, scanning the room for anyone else who looked like they might be waiting for someone. This was just Athos's kind of place: quiet, dim, and mostly empty. Porthos was already bored. Then he glanced over at a booth in the corner and did a double take.

A devastatingly handsome man was sprawled across the seat, chocolate brown leather jacket accentuating his wild dark curls. He looked as if he belonged on the runway, not in some rundown bar. As Porthos watched, he lifted his arm to check the expensive looking gold watch on his wrist, sighing as he looked around.

And straight at Porthos.

The man's eyes caught his own for a moment, an interested look flickering across his handsome features. Then his eyes flicked to the phone in Porthos's hand and back again, understanding replacing interest as he rose and made his way gracefully towards him.

Before Porthos had time to think of a good line, the man was at the bar, an easy smile on his lips. Porthos found himself staring at them, drunk enough that he needed to fight the urge to simply kiss them then and there. Hopefully he wasn't misreading the interest on the man's face.

"Porthos?" the man asked curiously.

"Yeah?" he replied blankly, still entranced.

"I'm Aramis. Athos's friend." A warm hand was gripping his own, shaking it firmly, and he finally dragged his eyes back up to the man's own.

Oh. That was worse. They were beautiful.

"Right," he managed, feeling incredibly awkward. He'd only recognized him, then. Not that kind of interest after all. "Yeah. Uh, Athos wanted me to tell you he ain't comin'. Got held up."

Aramis heaved a sigh and dropped onto the stool beside Porthos's. "Dammit. I've been trying to get him out in public for weeks and he ditches me."

He sounded so put out that Porthos spoke without thinking, hoping to sheer him up. "I think he's with a girl."

Aramis's eyes flashed up, a delighted grin breaking out across his face. It was breath-taking. "Oho, finally! In that case, he is forgiven. About time he started dating again. He's really coming out of his shell. A girl, a new friend…" He gave Porthos another brilliant smile. "This is so good for him."

"Good for 'im, maybe," Porthos muttered a bit bitterly. "I'm the one who got abandoned."

Aramis looked at him, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "What? Am I not good enough company?" he asked, shifting ever so subtly closer.

Oh. Maybe Porthos hadn't been misreading things.

"I guess the situation ain't without its compensations," he said, grinning broadly when he saw Aramis's eyes flick to his lips. "How 'bout I-"

He was interrupted by a clatter from the door as a man staggered in, already quite drunk. He looked around for a bit, blinking blearily, and then his gaze settled squarely on Aramis.

Aramis noticed, and his shoulders slumped a bit, a weary look crossing his face.

Porthos hated it.

He straightened on his stool and shifted a bit closer to Aramis, feeling suddenly protective. He rolled his shoulders and sent the darkest glower he could manage at the drunkard. The man was sober enough that it froze him in his steps and sent him scrambling back towards an empty booth.

Aramis watched the man go with an expression that could only be described as glee. He turned back to Porthos, grinning, and Porthos allowed himself to relax, glad that Aramis had not taken his action the wrong way.

"That was marvellous!" Aramis cried, one hand sneaking out to rest on Porthos's forearm. Sparks seemed to dance all the way up to his shoulder. He suddenly felt a bit like a giddy teenager.

"Yeah?" he asked roughly, enjoying the way Aramis's smile shifted to something darker and more inviting. "Does that mean I c'n buy you a drink?"

"You may," Aramis said, withdrawing his hand. Porthos fought not to make a disappointed noise at the loss. Then Aramis hopped off the stool, smirking at him. "But not here."

"Why not?" Porthos asked, feeling a bit lost.

"There's no music!" Aramis cried dramatically, waving one arm around the bar. His other hand was now resting on Porthos's shoulder. "This is an Athos bar. Let's find someplace a bit more fun?"

His smile was bright and hopeful, and Porthos had a sudden image of him on a dance floor. The thought made him swallow hard.

"Yeah, good idea," he said, voice lower than he'd intended. "I know a place."

"Then lead the way," Aramis purred, slipping his arm through Porthos's the moment Porthos was on his feet. Porthos pulled his arm a bit closer to his body, pleased when Aramis came willingly with it until he was pressed up against his side.

It looked like he would have to let Athos be his friend again. He'd introduced them, after all.

As they walked down the street, Aramis pressed to his side and chattering happily, Porthos wondered if this hadn't been Athos's plan all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 17 - Fake relationship – in a bar and one asks the other to pretend to be their boyfriend
> 
> Tags: Athos/Aramis

Athos downed his drink with a grimace, wondering why the hell he was drinking here. The bar itself was neon blue, for god's sake.

This was Constance's fault. All he'd wanted was a quiet place to get a drink after a long day at work. And she'd suggested this? Half the drinks the bartender served were _pink_.

The speakers were blaring something high-pitched and terrible, and a quick glance around showed a gaggle of girls in sequined dresses and guys in tight shirts grinding on the dance floor.

Enough was enough. Athos placed his empty glass on the bar, ready to leave in search of a more secluded place to get drunk. He crossed to the door only to find a crowd had formed trying to get in. He pressed himself flat against the wall to avoid being crushed and glanced idly to the side.

And then he looked again.

A handsome man in a tight white t-shirt and sapphire blue scarf was hunched against the wall, a phone pressed to his ear. Athos couldn't help but listen is as the crowd continued to surge past.

"I know, alright? Next time I won't go alone," the man said angrily. There was a bitter cast to his fine features. Normally, Athos didn't give a damn about other people's problems, but he kept listening anyway.

"No, Porthos, you don't need to come down here," the man sighed. "It's just a couple drunk assholes. I can handle them. I gotta go, okay?" He hung up without waiting for a response and thunked his head back against the wall. Dark eyes met Athos's.

Athos ripped his gaze away and walked back to the bar, giving up on getting out until the rush had died down a bit. Better to suffer the indignity of colorful drinks than be trampled by college kids out clubbing.  
He'd barely ordered a fresh drink when a commotion at the other end of the bar caught his attention. The handsome man was sandwiched between two musclebound guys who looked to have the IQ of a teacup between them. Everything about them was threatening. Athos immediately dubbed them Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

Even as Athos watched, the man said something pointedly that made Tweedle Dum scowl. He then looked around, dark eyes landing on Athos, and pointed straight at him.

Dee and Dum turned to look at him as the man hopped up and made his way over. Athos didn't have time to blink before a warm body was draped along his side, hot breath tickling his ear.

"Please, please play along," the man whispered, and that was all the warning he got before a kiss was planted on his cheek as the man slipped onto his lap. Athos automatically laid his hands on the man's waist so he wouldn't fall.

"I thought you were never going to get here, babe," he said loudly enough for Dee and Dum to hear. Both scowled before turning away and heading out onto the dance floor.

The man watched them until they vanished and then looked down at Athos with a mortified expression. "God, I'm so sorry, but they wouldn't back off, and I couldn't tell Porthos that some assholes were hitting on me _again_ , he already thinks I should never go out alone, and you just have a sympathetic face, and now I'm blabbering but I can't stop, and I really ought to get off you, and-"

"Don't worry about it," Athos said gruffly, helping the man to slide off his lap with a sense of loss. "Those two looked like brutes."

A grateful smile had him staring again. He hadn't known teeth could be that white.

"They were," the man said. "Wouldn't lay off until I thought to tell them I was waiting for my boyfriend. Then they demanded to know who he was." He ducked his head sheepishly, settling on the stool next to Athos's. "That's where you came in. I'm Aramis."

"Athos." Aramis's skin felt smooth as silk when Athos shook his hand. Not that he really noticed things like that.

"Well, Athos, thanks for the help," Aramis said, smiling again. "Let me buy you a drink for your troub- shit, they're coming back."

Athos turned to look and sure enough, Dum and Dee were approaching the bar once more, eyes locked on the pair of them. Aramis's face had twisted with discomfort, and even Athos's darkest glare did not deter them. Perhaps he was losing his touch.

Dee and Dum were almost upon them, and Aramis had begun fidgeting nervously with his scarf. The aggression in the beady eyes approaching and Aramis's obvious discomfort cracked something in Athos he hadn't known existed.

"I have an idea," he whispered. "Do you trust me?"

Athos felt a bit ridiculous asking that to a complete stranger. Aramis shot him a worried look, but it was clear he knew they were out of time. He nodded.

"Good," Athos muttered. Without giving himself time to back down, he leaned over and wrapped a hand around the back of Aramis's neck, yanking him in for a fierce kiss.

Any semblance of a plan at tricking Dee and Dum vanished the moment Aramis's lips touched his own. He hadn't expected himself to respond so enthusiastically, but when Aramis suddenly surged forward, half in his lap once more, Athos gave up worrying about propriety and simply let himself sink into the kiss.

Aramis certainly knew what he was doing.

When they finally broke apart, wide eyed and panting slightly, Dum and Dee were nowhere to be found.

"That's one way to get rid of someone," Aramis breathed, looking dazed but happy. "What do you say we go find a proper bar and get to know each other a little better? That way…"

"…when we do that again, it'll be proper?" Athos finished, warmth still coursing through him.

Aramis's dark eyes met his and he smiled, an invitation plain on his lips. "Exactly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 18 “Why does my shitty neighbour keep using my Wi-Fi”, “Then you shouldn’t’ve made the password a dumb ‘Lord of the Rings’ reference”
> 
> Tags: Aramis/Athos

Athos scrolled idly through his dashboard while he waited for the movie to load. At these speeds, it was almost worth setting up a router of his own.

Almost.

The popcorn dinged in the microwave and he clambered out of the blanket nest he'd built to fetch it. He'd gotten impatient less than thirty seconds in, so the wine was already open on the table. Wine, popcorn, and Netflix on his Blu-ray player: it was his ideal Friday night.

The movie had finally loaded when he got back. He was just setting the bowl down and preparing to fling himself across his blanket strewn couch once more when, to his utter disbelief, the doorbell rang.

He turned to stare at it, dumbfounded. He didn't _know_ anyone, and no one knew where he lived, so who the hell was knocking on his door at 9 o'clock on a Friday night?

A knock came again, louder, as if the person were getting impatient. Athos briefly contemplated the likelihood of it being a murderer and wondered if he ought to fetch his old foil from his room, but he decided he was probably safe enough. With a heavy sigh, he rose to answer the door.

He pulled it open to find his neighbour standing there, one hand raised comically in the air as if he'd been about to knock again. The man gaped at him for a moment, the expression absurdly at odds with his handsome features.

"Can I help you?" Athos asked coldly. He'd done his best to cultivate distance from all his floor mates, and he didn't intend to start making friends now. Though he did wish he could remember his name. Aaron... Austen… no, it was something unusual… "Aramis, right?"

"That's right," Aramis said, recovering at last from his shock. He seemed to be having trouble looking away from Athos's shirt. Too late, he remembered he was wearing a shirt that said 'Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey.'

"Well, are you going to ask, or are you just going to stand there and gawp?" Athos asked.

Aramis's dark eyes met his at last, anger flashing through them. "Yeah, I've got a bone to pick with you. You've been using my Wi-Fi, you bastard."

Despite himself, Athos took a step back from the violence in Aramis's tone. He seemed to take the action as a personal attack. Aramis used his momentary discomposure to push into his apartment uninvited.

"Well?" Aramis asked, pacing forward until he was mere inches away. "Do you deny it?"

"No."

"Ha! I have proof, and- what do you mean, no?"

Athos shrugged. "I don't deny it."

Aramis stared at him, visibly deflating, as if by not arguing Athos had knocked the wind from his sails. "Oh. I didn't plan for that response."

"You planned your speech ahead of time?" Athos asked, not sure whether to be incredulous or impressed.

Aramis glanced at the floor sheepishly. "I don't like conflict, okay. I wasn't even gonna come in here but people kept telling me not to be a pushover about it."

Great. Now Athos felt bad. Emotions were such burdensome things. "I shall of course stop immediately," he said, hoping Aramis would take the hint and leave.

He didn't. Instead, he wandered into Athos's living room, smiling when he saw the blanket fort Athos had built. Then he spotted the bowl on the table. "Oooh, popcorn!" he said delightedly, dropping down onto the couch and grabbing a handful while Athos just stared, not at all sure what to do with the madman in his home.

"How'd you guess my password, anyway?"

The question broke through Athos's shock and made him actually chuckle aloud. "It wasn't difficult after I saw the 'Speak, friend, and enter' doormat in front of your apartment. Clever."

"You like Lord of the Rings!" Aramis said happily, apparently over being irritated about the theft of his Wi-Fi. "I didn't think anyone around here would ever guess it. Even Porthos didn't."

Athos kept himself from asking who Porthos was. He was not interested in this man's life. At all.

But now Aramis had glanced at the TV, and his dark eyes had gone wide with excitement. He looked… damn it all, he looked adorable.

"You're watching _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_?" he cried, hopping to his feet and darting over to Athos's giant flat screen. He reached out one hand reverently as if to touch the logo on the screen.

Impulsive generosity warred with caution in Athos's breast. Caution lost. "Would you like to stay and watch?" he asked dejectedly. For some strange reason, he hoped Aramis would say yes, but he didn't want the other man to know. "It is your Wi-Fi, after all."

Aramis turned wide, excited eyes on him, a smile on his face that made Athos wonder if the lights in the room had suddenly brightened. It wasn't as if the sun could possibly be contained by the ridiculously attractive man in his apartment.

"That would be awesome!" Aramis exclaimed, looking about ready to start dancing with excitement. Athos ignored him and squashed the pleasant feeling in his chest as he sat down amidst his fort once more.

A moment later Aramis flopped down beside him, shoulder brushing his despite the length of empty couch stretched out behind him. Athos tried to ignore the warmth spreading through his body from the place where they touched and pressed play.

By the end of the movie, Aramis was cuddled up against his side and they were both pleasantly drunk on Athos's wine. Aramis had become infinitely more likeable when he'd tasted Athos's wine and been able to recognize the vintage.

A little window had popped up in the corner of the credits, asking if they'd like to watch Mulan. Aramis glanced up at him with a hopeful expression, so Athos made a show of sighing as he pressed play once again.

As Aramis snuggled up against him once more, Athos got the impression he wasn't fooling anybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 19 - Meeting at a festival/fair
> 
> Tags: Constagnan, established OT3
> 
> For those of you not from New England, the Big E, or Eastern States Exposition, is an enormous fair hosted every fall very close to my hometown. There are rides and games and, most importantly, delicious food! It's one of my favorite parts of the year.

"Constance, we need help!" Aramis cried, running up. Porthos stepped in front of her so that Aramis sprawled in his arms rather than bearing her down to the dirt.

"What's the hurry?" she asked as he struggled free. Porthos made a disappointed sound and Aramis rolled his eyes, a fond smile chasing away the worried expression, and twisted to kiss the larger man.

"Apparently it wasn't that important," she said pointedly when they didn't stop after a few seconds.

They broke apart with sheepish expressions. "Sorry. Athos and I need your help. Remember how I said I'd invited our new co-worker to come with us?"

"I remember you chatting me up for him even after I said I wasn't ready to start dating again," Constance said dryly. "Though why you think I'd be interested in anyone Porthos refers to as 'the puppy' is beyond me."

"Well, we, uh… we lost him," Aramis admitted, shrinking back against Porthos's chest.  
"I told you I shoulda brought 'im," Porthos growled. "This is why we can't 'ave a real puppy."

"I thought between Athos and I we could be responsible enough to get him to the State Buildings to meet you!" Aramis wailed. "Besides, if I'd gone to pick Constance up, I'd have been slapped by now."

Porthos looked heavenward with an expression halfway between love and utter exasperation. He wore it near constantly around his boyfriends.

"Well, where's Athos now?" she asked before Aramis could start trying to make up to Porthos. That usually ended with them sneaking away to a dark corner and probably grabbing Athos on the way.

"He's searching," Aramis told her, still safely ensconced in Porthos's arms. "Are you going to slap me?"

"Is that why you're hiding like a baby?"

Aramis just shrugged. "Yes. Is it safe to come out?"

Constance sighed and rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. She should've known better than to agree to come here with them. But Aramis had gone on about how the Big E was a New England tradition, and she'd given in to his pleading eyes.

"I'm not going to slap you," she said, smiling internally at Aramis's relieved expression. "But if the poor boy's been trampled by an elephant, or the Budweiser Clydesdales…"

"Do you think that's a possibility?" Aramis cried, grabbing Porthos's hand and dragging him away. "We have to hurry! I can't let the poor pup be crushed to death!"

Porthos sent her a look that said _why'd you go and do that?_ Constance just giggled.

They found Athos easily enough. The crowd was parting around him as if he had the plague, his stony expression enough to warn off even the boldest of fairgoers.

"Ah, good, maybe the two of you will be more use than him," Athos muttered, jerking his chin at Aramis. "He was supposed to watch the boy while I went to the bathroom. I come out, he's flirting with the woman selling candied apples and the pup is gone."

Aramis's face fell. Athos saw it and sighed, lifting an arm. Aramis brightened at the invitation and slipped smoothly from Porthos's side to tuck himself under Athos's arm instead.

"If you lot are done being adorable, shall we find your friend?" Constance asked. "Did you call him?"

"His phone's at the station," Athos told her. "We couldn't go back for it if we wanted to meet you on time."

"Well, what's he wearing?" Constance asked wearily. Honestly, they were all children. She should've known better than to trust them to look after anyone else. They could barely keep up with Aramis as it was.

"Black jacket, blue t-shirt, jeans, Converse, and a white beanie," Aramis said immediately. Constance gave him an impressed look. Noticing it, he added, "I'd be a pretty poor detective if I couldn't list a person's clothing, sweet lady."

Constance shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Well, he shouldn't be too hard to find. Anywhere he might've gone?"

"He saw the Ferris Wheel over the Midway," Athos told her. "He got rather excited about all the rides."

Constance nodded. "Right then. Let's split up, search the rides and games. He can't have gone far."

"Are we doing groups?" Aramis asked hopefully.

"Yes. You lot together and me on my own," Constance told him. "Otherwise one of you will end up lost too. I'll head right, you go left. We'll find him."

She watched them walk away, trusting Athos to keep them on task, before turning in the other direction, scanning the crowd.

She was just passing the Polar Express, the cheerful music tinkling merrily in her ears, when she spotted a white beanie near the ticket booth. She hurried over, darting around a man eating a corndog, and ran straight into the person's chest, sending him tumbling backward.

She caught herself before she fell too. "Shit, sorry," she murmured, offering him a hand up. The clothes matched the description, but the wide grin and handsome features had caught her completely off guard.

"No damage," he said easily.

"Are you D'Artagnan?" she asked, letting go of his hand reluctantly. When he nodded, she added, "Aramis thought you'd been trampled by an elephant."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," D'Artagnan said sheepishly. "They were just taking so long, and the rides looked amazing. I lost track of time."

"Well, we should find them and tell them you aren't dead," she said. He nodded, glancing back at the Polar Express. He looked so forlorn that she couldn't help herself. "But I suppose there's time for a quick ride?"

A beaming smile was her reward. D'Artagnan led the way back to the ride, passing her some tickets. Her phone dinged and she pulled it out. A text from Athos read _enjoy your date_. She looked up to see them watching from beside the swings, Aramis grinning victoriously at her.

Those bastards had planned this all along.

Still, she reflected as she followed D'Artagnan, who kept smiling back at her, who was she to complain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now all I want out of life is to find one of the boys and go to the Big E with them. Sigh...
> 
> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 20 - Waiting behind you in line but “excuse you/me, did I just hear you talking shit about my favourite superhero there SON”
> 
> Tags: Porthos/Athos, eventual implied OT3

"I don't see why you dragged me along to this," Athos grumbled, glaring darkly at the moviegoers crowding around them.

Porthos chuckled, one of his hands finding Athos's shoulder. "Because, despite all your grouchiness, you actually like these movies," he said teasingly. "I remember your face after _The Avengers_ , don't forget. No way I wasn't gonna take you to the second one."

"I was caught up in the moment," Athos muttered. "It proves nothing."

Porthos laughed. "Yeah, and the fact that you're 'alf in love with Iron Man s'got nothin' to do with it."

Athos's glare caused a couple of bystanders to shoot them alarmed looks, but Porthos just grinned cheerfully, knowing he was right. "You're one to talk," Athos growled. "I seem to recall you all but swooning over Thor."

"Oi, I stand by that, who doesn't want to be a god wielding a magic hammer?" Porthos asked.

"I don't think you wanted to _be_ Thor," Athos said with uncharacteristic wickedness. "I rather think you wanted to-"

Porthos's hand over his mouth cut off the rest of his sentence. "There're kids 'ere, you animal."

Athos made a low growling noise. Porthos chuckled and removed his hand. "You gonna behave?"

Athos eyed him darkly. "I make no promises. If anyone dies, I may burn this place to the ground."

"Duly noted," Porthos murmured, trying to tug Athos closer, but the smaller man pulled away. "Where're you goin'?"

"I need food if I'm to get through this infernal wait," Athos muttered, glaring at the crowd until it parted before him. "Why don't these places sell wine?"

Porthos shook his head fondly as Athos vanished, still muttering to himself. He turned back to the line and glanced at his watch. Half an hour before the first showing. He hoped Athos remembered the Sour Patch Kids.

The crowd before him cleared as other people had the same idea as Athos. Porthos found himself lounging against a wall behind a small group of people who were arguing passionately about something. Or rather, a very handsome guy and a red-haired girl were arguing, while a second, younger guy watched like he was preparing to stop a riot.

Bored, Porthos decided to forgo polite behaviour and listen to their conversation.

"Constance, Pepper doesn't count as a superhero," the attractive guy said. Porthos noticed he had very white teeth and dark eyes flashing with enthusiasm as he argued.

"Well, why not?" Constance asked. "Without her, Iron Man wouldn't even exist! He'd be off drunk in some corner while the world burned down!"

"I'm not saying she's not amazing," the man said, backpedalling quickly in the face of Constance's wrath. "But she's not technically a superhero."

Constance frowned, obviously searching for another argument. Then the younger guy stepped in. "But Aramis, Loki isn't a superhero either."

Aramis. Porthos grinned to himself. Unusual name, but it suited the handsome stranger. Then he went and ruined everything.

"Well, he ought to be. He's a far better protagonist than Thor."

Porthos stared openly, not sure he'd heard correct. Surely this man, this unfairly gorgeous man, wasn't talking shit about Thor right in front of him? Damn, why did the hot ones always have the worst flaws?  
"Scuse me," he said loudly. "Are you sayin' Loki's a better hero than Thor? He's a villain!"

Aramis looked up at him, surprise flitting across his features at the unexpected interruption. "Well, yeah, but he's a far sight more interesting than Thor. All he does is swing his hammer and have one little epiphany and everyone loves him again."

"Thor's got an amazing redemption arc about the importance of responsibility and the price o' power, and you're sayin' all he does is swing a hammer?" Porthos asked incredulously.

"I'm saying he's a flat character, so it's little wonder the world loves Loki more," Aramis said passionately. "He's far more interesting, and infinitely more compelling."

"He's a murderer!" Porthos exclaimed. "That's like saying you like the Joker better'n Batman!" Aramis had to grace to look momentarily sheepish. "No!" Porthos cried in disbelief. "You honestly like the Joker?"

"Again, he's a far more interesting character than the dark, broody, boring bat," Aramis said. Porthos noticed his friends beginning to edge away, as if separating themselves from the two lunatics shouting about superheroes. "He's captivating. Besides, Batman is just a less interesting version of the Black Widow anyway."

"You- what- how can you-" Porthos spluttered. Aramis just raised an eyebrow, lips twitching up into an aggravating smirk.

Porthos honestly didn't know if he wanted to punch him in the face or kiss him.

He was saved from having to make a decision by the reappearance of Athos, who shoved a handful of snacks at him and glared at the pair of them. "What do you think you're doing?"

"He thinks Loki's better'n Thor!" Porthos said petulantly. Athos gave him an exasperated look.

"Most of the world thinks that, Porthos," Athos said evenly, ignoring Porthos's indignant hiss. "Get used to people not agreeing with you. And I prefer the Joker too."

"You were listenin'," Porthos accused.

"You were shouting. Everyone was listening," Athos told him dryly. "Now, shake hands like gentlemen."

Aramis glanced over at Porthos, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that," he muttered. "I get a bit defensive of my favorites."

Porthos chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, me too. That's Athos. I'm Porthos." He offered Aramis a hand. "Aramis, right?"

"Spying on me?" Aramis asked, smirking as he shook Porthos's hand.

Porthos chuckled. "Something like that."

"I suppose the polite thing to do would be to invite you both to sit with me during the film," Aramis said, a smile playing about his lips. "Since my own friends have abandoned me. Afterwards, we can bicker about Thor's usefulness as an Avenger some more."

Porthos glanced at Athos, whose eyes skimmed briefly over Aramis before nodding, something satisfied in his expression.

"On one condition," Athos drawled. They both looked at him expectantly.

"You both admit Iron Man is really the best superhero."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 21 - Meeting in the E.R/A&E
> 
> Tags: Portamis

Porthos rubbed at the cut on his head only to find his hand smacked away a moment later.

"Leave it," Athos told him, settling back in the uncomfortable chair.

"It itches," Porthos grunted. When his hand drifted up again, Athos kicked him.

"Oi, you don't kick invalids," Porthos said indignantly.

Athos rolled his eyes. "You've got a cut on your head because some idiot hit you with a broken bottle after you punched him in the face. You're hardly an invalid."

"That guy was getting too handsy with the girls," Porthos muttered.

"I never said you didn't do the right thing. But couldn't you have at least ducked the bottle? Then you wouldn't have to spend all night in the E.R."

"Wait, you ain't stayin'?" Porthos asked.

Athos gave him a look. "I have to go get D'Artagnan, who, you may remember, we left alone in a bar on the other side of town."

"Oh," Porthos said guiltily. "Right."

"I'll text you after I drop him off. If you're still waiting, I'll come back. Fair enough?"

"Alright. Make sure the pup gets home safe, he drank more'n he shoulda."

"And yet somehow, you were the one to get in a fight," Athos muttered. "Try not to harass any nurses while I'm gone."

Porthos made an exaggerated gesture of crossing his heart and winked at Athos as he left. Then he turned his attention to the crowded waiting room. He'd be lucky if they got to him before midnight.

He didn't see the need for all the fuss, to be honest. It was just a cut. But Athos had been angry enough about the fight that Porthos hadn't been about to question his decision to drive him straight to the E.R.

He could've done without being left alone, though.

He glanced at a pile of magazines and made a face at the titles. Where were all the _Entertainment Weekly_ 's? He'd settle for a _National Geographic_ , even.

Porthos was reaching up to scratch at his head again when someone dropped heavily into the seat beside him. His eyes travelled from the hands in the guy's lap, one of which was clutching an icepack, and made their way to a stunningly attractive face currently pinched with pain, eyes scrunched closed.

"You alright?" he asked uncertainly. Dark eyes flickered open and fixed on him. Porthos sucked in a breath.

Oh no. He was not the kind of guy to have a goddamn meet-cute in an E.R. No way.

"I'm fine," the man said, and _of course_ his voice sounded like honey poured over silk. "Just broke a few fingers." He jerked his chin at the icepack pressed against the fingers of his left hand.

Porthos winced. "How'd that happen?"

"Some guy didn't know how to take 'no' for an answer," he said shortly.

"He what?" Porthos growled, unable to help the protectiveness that flared in his chest. He'd seen too much of the darker side of the world to not want to fight it wherever he could. Athos called it stupidity, but D'Artagnan liked to say it was noble.

Dark eyes flicked to his again, assessing. "Hardly a new occurrence," the man said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "And you? Who got a hit in on you?"

"Some scum who didn't listen when a girl said no," Porthos growled. The man's lips quirked up in a smile that Porthos echoed, pleased to have set the handsome stranger at his ease.

"Surprised he's still standing," the man teased. Porthos grinned at the spark of mischief in his eyes.

"Who says 'e is?" he asked roughly. The man actually laughed, leaning forward from the force of it, though he sat back at once, biting his lip. Porthos realized he'd leaned against his broken fingers.

"Shit, sorry," he muttered. "Lemme see."

"There's no need to apologize for making me laugh," the man told him, but he held out his hand anyway. The fingers were purple. "I'm Aramis." He held out his uninjured hand as well.

He shook it. "Porthos."

"So, how long do you think the wait'll b- where're you going?" Aramis asked as Porthos rose from his seat, blinking against the head rush.

"Your ice pack's melted," Porthos told him. Aramis looked down at it as if it had betrayed him. "I'll get you a new one."

"Oh," Aramis said. "You, ah, you don't have to do that."

Porthos frowned at the self-deprecating tone. "S'no trouble," he mumbled. It was the work of only a moment to snag a passing nurse and demand an ice pack and a clean towel.

Within minutes he was back, helping Aramis wrap the towel and fresh ice pack around his hand. His fingers were obviously paining him, because halfway through his uninjured hand found Porthos's wrist. Porthos didn't say anything when he held on long after he'd finished wrapping his hand.

"So, how'd you get here?" Aramis asked, face still rather pale.

"A friend drove me. Guess he'll probably pick me up. Why?"

Aramis flushed a bit and looked down at his lap. Then he mumbled, "I could drive you."

"You could- wait, you drove here?" Porthos asked, appalled. "Didn't your friends-?"

Aramis shrugged. "They wanted to keep drinking."

Porthos sensed that this was a touchy subject and changed tact. "Should you be driving with broken fingers?"

Aramis glanced at him, amusement in his eyes once more. "Better broken fingers than a broken skull."

Porthos chuckled ruefully. "Fine. You're on. You c'n drive me home after we get out if you promise you ain't a stalker."

"Cross my heart," Aramis said solemnly, keeping his face straight for a few seconds before chuckling again.

The lengthy wait seemed like nothing after that. Porthos finally resigned himself to having a clichéd hospital meet-cute after Aramis fell asleep on his shoulder, dark curls tickling Porthos's neck.

When Athos finally texted asking if he should come back, Porthos just glanced at Aramis, still dozing contentedly against his shoulder.

_No need. I'm good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 22 - Met while jumping into the same pile of freshly raked leaves in a park (alternatively, one jumps in and they met when no 2 kicks said pile of leaves)
> 
> Tags: Portamis

Porthos was having a bad day. One of those no good, the-world-is-out-to-get-me kind of days. All he wanted to do was get home and curl up in bed with his laptop and some hot chocolate for the entire weekend.

But first he had to get through this damn park.

He knew it was probably uncharitable to glare at adorable children running about playing happily in leaves, especially when a few had equally adorable puppies with them, but it was just that kind of day.

Porthos cut through a field full of shrieking kids throwing leaves and darted down a little-used path that wound around the park. It would take longer, but it would be less crowded than the main areas.

He walked in silence, the shouts of glee fading into the distance. He was just turning down the path that would bring him back to the main park when he stopped, scowling.

Someone had raked an enormous pile of leaves right across the path.

Porthos eyed the ground on either side darkly. He didn't fancy stomping through the mud that sat on either side of the path, so he squared his shoulders and began to make his way through the enormous pile.

His foot caught on a hidden stick and he growled savagely. "Stupid leaves," he muttered darkly, kicking at them. They flew into the air with a satisfying swoosh. Pleased with the destruction, he did it again, and again, until his foot connected with something much more solid.

Something that grunted with pain and rose out of the leaf pile like some evil leviathan and…

Porthos blinked. Make that a sexy leviathan.

Porthos found himself confronted with dark eyes and a head of wild curls currently tangled with leaves. "What's your problem?"

"Were you sleeping in there?" Porthos asked, not quite caught up yet on what was happening. All he could think was _shit he's hot_.

"So what if I was?" the guy asked angrily. "Building this thing was tiring. Doesn't mean you can go kicking me."

Porthos winced, noticing the man was rubbing a hand over his ribs. "I, uh, I didn't know anyone was in there," he muttered. "Sorry."

"Who'd make a leaf pile this big and just abandon it?" the man scoffed, idly picking leaves out of his hair.

"Thought only kids played in the leaves," Porthos said without thinking, a bit entranced by a red leaf still trapped in the dark curls.

"I didn't think there'd be anyone out here to judge," the man snapped, looking a bit hurt. His cheeks had turned red.

Shit.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Porthos said, trying to backpedal frantically.

The man looked away, scuffing his foot through the leaves. "Yeah. Whatever. It's fine." He reached into his pocket. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Porthos asked immediately. His brain was telling him to give up and go home to his warm bed, but he wasn't quite ready to walk away from an attractive stranger.

Even one playing in a leaf pile.

"Lost my phone," the man mumbled, peering down at the leaves. He dropped heavily to his knees and began scrabbling through the pile.

"I can 'elp," Porthos offered. "Probably fell out when I kicked you."

Dark eyes glanced at him suspiciously for a moment before relaxing. A small smile erased the man's frown and turned him from attractive to breath-taking as he nodded.

"I'm Porthos, by the way," Porthos said as he crouched down and began pawing through the leaves. He wondered if it made him a bad person to hope they didn't find the phone right away. He'd like a chance to win another smile like that.

"Aramis," the man told him. "Sorry about before. I get a bit grumpy when I'm woken unexpectedly."

"Pretty sure I deserved it," Porthos chuckled. "You probably coulda kicked me back if you wanted to."

Aramis glanced up at him thoughtfully. Porthos had barely a moment to prepare before he found himself sprawled in the crunchy leaves.

"Oi, that was a sneak attack, pushing a man from behind," he growled, unable to keep the amusement from his tone as he clambered to his feet, advancing on Aramis, who backed away, laughing.

"No, no, we're even now, stop!" His protests were cut off when Porthos managed to hook his foot around Aramis's heel, sending him back into the leaves.

"Treachery!" he cried dramatically, flinging leaves into the air. "I will be avenged!" He tossed fragments of leaves over Porthos's head. He backed away, laughing as he tried to shake them out. A moment later, something heavy hit his waist and he fell backwards.

He emerged spluttering from the leaves to find his arms full of Aramis, who'd apparently decided a running tackle was the best way to knock him over. He blinked, looking a bit dazed as leaves fluttered down into his hair.

Porthos reached up to pull one free and froze, hoping he wasn't crossing a line, but Aramis just grinned, something like interest flashing in his dark eyes.

"You look like a leaf monster," he told him, rolling off Porthos at last. Porthos was rather sad to see him go.

"You're one to talk," Porthos chuckled, eyeing the leaves tangled in Aramis's curls. "Shouldn't we be findin' your phone?"  
Aramis looked down sheepishly. "I, ah, found it before I pushed you over," he confessed. "But the leaf pile wasn't as fun with just me."

"That's connivin', that is," Porthos said, but he couldn't help his grin. Always nice to know one's interest was returned. All the same, he dumped more leaves on Aramis's head in retaliation.

Aramis grabbed a handful of leaves to strike back, but Porthos caught his hand before he could attack. "Christ, you're freezin'." He looked around in surprise. "When did it get dark? C'mon, I'll buy you a coffee."

"You may buy me a Pumpkin Spice Latte," Aramis said, smiling happily. Then he paused. "Um, we may have a problem."

"What?"

"I dropped my phone again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 23 - "Which asshole hasn’t returned the DVD I want yet"
> 
> Tags: Established Portamis, eventual OT3, ridiculously out of date prompt

"So, did you get it?" Aramis asked hopefully as he sank onto their couch.

Porthos glared at the wall. "No. I checked yesterday. It still ain't there."

Aramis's happy expression faded. "Seriously?"

Porthos sighed, flopping down beside him. Aramis immediately curled into his side like a cat. "Yeah. The guy at the desk said it was still out."

"Porthos, you know I can download it," Aramis murmured. "We don't have to go to such archaic lengths just to watch one movie."

"I don't like downloadin' things," Porthos growled. "S'illegal, love."

Aramis rolled his eyes. "I'm not likely to get caught."

"You know I just ain't comfortable with that," Porthos said. "Call it a moral 'ang up."

Aramis sighed and looked away. "At this rate we'll never get to watch it." He sounded so disappointed that Porthos winced.

"It's just a movie," he said. Aramis frowned at him.

"It's my favorite movie, Porthos. I wanted to share it with you." His face had gone all sad and crumpled looking.

Which, naturally, sent Porthos into panic mode. Words poured out of his mouth like an avalanche in an attempt to wipe away that disappointed look. "Okay, okay, we're gonna watch it, I promise. I'll go down there now and if they still don't have it we can download it, yeah?"

Aramis huffed out a breath and shook his head. "It's raining, Porthos," he pointed out. "And it's a ten minute walk."

"I swear I'll be quick," Porthos promised, wiggling out from under Aramis and clambering to his feet. "You c'n stay 'ere and watch TV."

To his surprise, Aramis rose too. "If you go alone, I'll just spend the whole time worrying that you've had a fight with the clerk or drowned in a puddle," Aramis sighed, snatching his jacket off the chair. "Let's go."

Porthos grinned and grabbed his largest umbrella as they left the apartment. At the bottom of the stairs Aramis stopped, staring morosely at the pouring rain. "You c'n go back, love," Porthos murmured.

"No, I said I was coming," Aramis said firmly, pressing against Porthos's side as he stepped through the door. Porthos wrapped an arm around Aramis's shoulders, careful to make sure the umbrella covered them both.

Thankfully, it wasn't windy, and they were able to make the trip without incident, apart from a brief pause beneath an overhang when Aramis got a bit too frisky with his hands and Porthos pinned him against the wall and kissed him soundly.

Aramis glanced at the sign as they hurried up to the door, shaking his head. "Honestly, Porthos, who even rents movies anymore? I'm getting us Netflix."

"C'mon, it's nostalgic," Porthos said, shaking off the umbrella.

"It's medieval," Aramis muttered darkly, following Porthos to the counter.

A man stood there, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, glaring at the kid behind the counter as he rang him out. His face was partially obscured by a blue scarf wrapped around his neck, but his eyes, when he glanced over at them, were striking.

"Hello," Aramis murmured under his breath. Porthos bumped him with his hip.

"Behave," he whispered.

"Right, you're all set," the kid said sullenly, passing the man his DVD. Porthos glanced over in time to see the cover: _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_.

"Oi!" he cried, surging forward. "Where'd you get that?"

The man fixed him with a cold stare. "The shelf," he said coolly.

"No fuckin' way," Porthos growled, ignoring Aramis's hand on his arm trying to pull him away. "I been lookin' for that movie for a week. What the hell are you doin' with it?"  
"Renewing it," the man snapped. "Is that illegal now?"

"Renewin'? You mean you're the asshole that's been hoggin' it?" Porthos said angrily, stepping forward again. The man lifted his chin to glare at him, and Porthos spared a moment to appreciate that the rest of his face was as striking as his eyes.

But still. He was the enemy.

"Gentlemen, please, calm down," Aramis murmured, slipping between them. One of his shoulders was pressing firmly against Porthos's chest, holding him back. The other man was watching Aramis with veiled interest. In any other situation, Porthos would've been gleeful.

"No, babe, this is the guy that's 'ad the movie all along. I promised we'd watch it and we fuckin' will," Porthos snapped.

"If he's renewed it, you can hardly just steal it, Porthos." Aramis managed to shove him a step backward. "Honestly, it's fine. We can watch it some other time."

"This is important to you," Porthos muttered, shoulders slumping.

"If it means that much, just take it," the man drawled, holding out the DVD with an air of indifference, but his blue eyes were watching them with interest.

"No, that's alright," Aramis said, smiling. "Really, we can't deprive you of the comedic genius that is the Pythons. That would be a travesty."

"Why don't you all just watch it together and get out of the store," the clerk muttered, glaring at them.

Porthos huffed, ready to come back with a smart comment, but Aramis was looking at the man thoughtfully. "I would not be opposed," he said, glancing at Porthos.

Porthos opened his mouth to disagree, but he caught the hopeful glint in Aramis's eye and looked at the guy again. He definitely looked like he was thinking about it.

"Oh, do say yes," Aramis said, flashing the man a charming smile. "Porthos here is a new initiate to Monty Python. And we live just down the street."

Porthos knew from experience that no one could resist that smile. "Very well," the man said gruffly. "I'm Athos."

"Aramis," Aramis murmured smoothly, slipping an arm through Porthos's as he led the way from the store. Athos glanced at Porthos as if to ask _is this guy for real?_

Porthos shrugged, grinning ruefully, and allowed Aramis to work his magic on the handsome stranger as they walked back to their apartment, crammed together under Porthos's umbrella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 24 - Thanksgiving/big family dinner
> 
> Tags: OT3, Aramis is adorable with kids, Porthos is an angel, Athos wasn't made for social situations

Athos slowed down as they neared the front door, letting Porthos outpace him. His dignity wouldn't allow him to hide, but he could certainly make himself more difficult to find.

Unfortunately, Porthos saw right through his charade.

"Eh, none o' that," he growled, grabbing Athos's arm and dragging him forward again. "Stop tryin' to hide behind me."

"I'm not hiding," Athos said stiffly, adjusting his grip on the bottle of fancy wine he'd brought. "I just don't see why we had to come."

"Because it's important t' Aramis that we spend time with 'is family," Porthos said in the voice one might use to explain something to a small child. "And, bein' the fantastic boyfriends that we are, we promised to come over for Thanksgivin'."

"You mean we were emotionally manipulated into agreeing," Athos muttered.

"Keep sayin' things like that and I'm gonna make you knock on the door," Porthos threatened. Athos glared at him and looked pointedly at the door. Porthos laughed, rapping his knuckles against the wood.

There was no response at first, but Athos could hear shouting from inside. "Good lord, there must be a dozen people in there," he groaned. "Can't I hide in the bushes?"

"No you don't," Porthos growled, an arm darting out to wrap firmly around Athos's shoulders, holding him in place. "C'mon, be supportive, love. Just 'cause you don't get along with your parents doesn't mean everyone's that way."

Athos's response was cut off by the door being flung open. A moment later they both had an armful of Aramis.

"Hey to you too," Porthos chuckled. Aramis heaved a sigh, burying his face against Athos's neck.

"Is something wrong?" Athos asked, trying to take Porthos's advice.

"Aunt Cecilia is already drunk and Papá is going to light the turkey on fire, I just know it," Aramis groaned, burrowing further into their embrace. "This is a disaster."

"Rubbish, it can't be that bad," Porthos said soothingly, rubbing a hand over Aramis's back.

"My sisters lost the recipe for the sweet potato pie, and now they're arguing over which internet one sounds the least disgusting," Aramis said miserably. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

"Hey, it'll be fine," Porthos said firmly. "C'mon, we'll see if we can 'elp." Athos contemplated slipping into the bushes while his back was turned, but Porthos's free hand clamped around his wrist, dragging him in with them.

Athos sighed. He supposed it would be wrong to abandon them now.

They'd barely made it into the hallway before a chorus went up of "Uncle Aramis!" Four small shapes slammed into Aramis with enough force that Athos's hand on his waist was all that kept him upright. His four nieces promptly herded him into the living room, leaving them to continue alone to the kitchen.

Aramis's parents were bustling about efficiently, but his three sisters were crowded around a laptop having a passionate argument about yams in Spanish.

"Watch this," Porthos muttered in his ear. Athos leaned against the counter and watched as Porthos slid neatly into the group, charming smile firmly in place. "Did I ever tell you ladies about my mom's recipe for sweet potato pie? It's absolutely delicious…"

Athos shook his head as Aramis's sisters immediately dissolved into cries about how _adorable_ Porthos was and what a _shame_ he was dating their brother. Porthos winked at him as he was pulled off to help with the pie.

Leaving Athos stranded alone in the kitchen with Aramis's parents, clutching a bottle of expensive wine.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked awkwardly when Aramis's mother noticed him, handing over the bottle of wine with a feeling of relief.

"Oh, no, dear, you just relax," she said. Athos noticed her smile was almost the same as Aramis's.

Feeling rather adrift, he wandered back into the living room, where Aramis was pinned beneath four squealing children. The girls looked back and forth between Athos and Aramis when he entered and then ran off as one, giggling maniacally.

Athos dropped onto the couch. A moment later Aramis crawled up beside him, looking rumpled. "Thank God you came," he breathed, curling against Athos's side. "I thought they were going to eat me. Or worse."

"Is my mere presence enough to terrify small children into fleeing?" Athos asked dryly, carding his fingers through Aramis's hair.

Aramis chuckled. "No, I told them we were going to be doing all sort of grown up kissing," he admitted, some of the tension draining from his body as he pressed closer to Athos. "They weren't brave enough to stick around."

"Grown up kissin'?" Porthos asked, appearing in the doorway. A moment later he dropped down on Aramis's other side. "Sounds fun." Athos smirked at him over Aramis's head, aware of where this was going. "Maybe we oughta try it."

Aramis chuckled, stretching up to press a kiss to Porthos's jaw without shifting away from Athos. "They're watching from the hallway," he whispered. "Wanna see me get rid of them?" Without waiting for an answer, he reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of Porthos's neck, dragging him down and kissing him firmly on the lips.

Shrieks echoed down the hallway as four pairs of feet thundered away. Aramis laughed victoriously, dropping down against Athos once more. "Is the kitchen a war zone?" he asked.

Porthos chuckled, stretching an arm along the back of the sofa until his hand cupped Athos's neck. "Nah. I gave your sisters a recipe."

"And your mother said she doesn't need help," Athos added.

Aramis looked at them, a pleased grin creeping across his face. It was unfairly adorable. "Maybe that means we can relax until dinner," he murmured, tangling his fingers with Athos's. "Perhaps this won't be a total disaster after all. Thank you, _queridos_."

Porthos ducked his head to press a kiss to Aramis's hair, his thumb making circles on the back of Athos's neck.

Right on cue, the smoke alarms began to blare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 25 - Parents signed them up for the same shitty art/science program
> 
> Tags: Portamis

Porthos dropped heavily behind a desk, glaring at anyone who tried to sit near him. As if coming to a new school wasn't bad enough, now he had to do this shitty club too.

No, wait, club wasn't the right word. Horrible afterschool program that his foster parents insisted would be 'good for him' was more accurate. He should never have left his sketches where his well-meaning foster mother could find them.

And now he was stuck here.

A friendly-looking freshman was heading for the empty space beside him at the back of the room. A dark glare had him scurrying back to the front to sit next to a girl with long auburn hair.

The teacher, a balding man with reddish hair and a weary expression, finally showed up. Porthos had run his earbuds through his sleeve before class, so he leaned against his hand and listened to AC/DC, ignoring the opening remarks.

His attention was finally caught when the door opened with a bang and someone came sauntering in five minutes late.

Porthos's chin fell off his hand so fast he nearly whacked his jaw against the desk. He didn't know anyone that attractive went to this school.

"Sorry, sir," the newcomer said, charming voice at odds with his rumpled looks. "Had an incident on the way."

"I know what kind of incident you had, Mr. d'Herblay," the teacher said wearily. "Just find your seat."

The boy gave him another sunny grin and brushed dark curls out of his eyes, glancing over the classroom. Porthos watched as his eyes skipped over several seats near the front and alighted squarely on the desk next to him.

Shit.

Porthos tried to school his face back into some semblance of a glare to drive him away, but he couldn't manage it before the handsome boy dropped down beside him. His charming grin had faded, and now he just looked bored.

"If you're wondering why I've sat here, it's because you're the only person here who looks less enthused to be here than me," the boy said under his breath, meeting Porthos's eyes with a conspiratorial look.

Porthos couldn't help himself. He grinned.

The boy looked delighted.

"I'm Aramis," he whispered, lifting his fingers to his temple in a mock salute. "You're new, right? I can tell."

Porthos bristled. He hated to be the new guy. "I think I'd remember someone who looks like you," Aramis went on blithely.

"Looks like me 'ow?" Porthos muttered darkly.

Aramis looked up. To Porthos's surprise, he blushed slightly, but still managed to murmur, "You know… really cute."

"What?" Porthos choked out, pleasantly shocked by the words.

"Mr. du Vallon, Mr. d'Herblay, if you don't mind," the professor said testily.

"Sorry Mr. Treville," Aramis called cheerfully. "Won't happen again."

The teacher gave a long suffering sigh and went back to his instructions.

"Sorry if I'm too forward," Aramis murmured, looking a bit sheepish. "It's a curse of mine."

Porthos glanced down at him hands, slipping one into his pocket to turn off his iPod. "I don't mind."

He caught Aramis grinning out of the corner of his eye. "Does that mean I can know your name then?" Aramis asked.

Porthos chuckled, mimicking Aramis's salute from before. "Porthos."

Aramis opened his mouth to say more, but Treville cut him off, telling everyone to find an easel and get to work.

Aramis leapt to his feet and claimed the nearest easel, looking pointedly between Porthos and the one beside him. Porthos blew out a breath and rose, obediently taking the indicated easel.

Treville passed them, passing out paint brushes. He eyed the pair of them and rolled his eyes. Aramis just grinned at him, snatching a paint brush.

A low murmur of conversation filled the room as students began to work freely. Aramis seemed to take this as an invitation to begin chatting in earnest, and Porthos couldn't even pretend not to be pleased.

"So, why're you stuck here?" Aramis asked, struggling to unscrew a bottle of blue paint. "My parents decided I've got too much free time and I should put my 'skills' to better use. Dammit!" he muttered, yanking his hand back from the bottle and looking morosely at the thin cut the cap had left on his palm.

"Give it 'ere," Porthos mumbled, twisting the cap off. Aramis gave him a grateful smile, his hand lingering a moment too long when he took the bottle back. "My foster mom wanted me to do this," he admitted quietly.

He waited for the usual pity. This was why he'd never had a real relationship at any of his many schools. But all Aramis said was, "Why? Are you any good?"

Porthos looked at him, surprised. "She thinks so. Found some sketches I did o' people I knew," he said, wondering why he was telling all this to someone he just met. For some reason, when Aramis looked at him, he felt as if he'd known him all his life.

"You can sketch?" Aramis asked, sounding very interested. "Lucky. I can't draw worth a damn. Look." He pointed to the easel. All he'd managed so far was a squashed looking blue blob. "Hopeless."

"I could 'elp you," Porthos offered. The words were out of his mouth before he'd thought them through, but Aramis's eyes lit up with pleasure.

"Really? That would be amazing!" Aramis said happily. One of his hands had stolen out to rest against Porthos's forearm.

"It's nothin'," Porthos muttered, trying not to grin like a fool.

"What time is your lunch period?" Aramis asked excitedly. "We simply must have lunch together!"

"Uh, second," Porthos said, smiling to himself when Aramis immediately launched into a list of all the reasons that Porthos absolutely had to find him the next day and sit with him.

He let Aramis go on like this for a bit before finally saying, "Course I'll sit with you, idiot."

Aramis's smile was like the sun.

Maybe this school would finally stick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 26 - Meeting at a coffee shop
> 
> Tags: Athamis, hinted Constagnan

Athos was a man who liked his routine. Every morning he walked to the little coffee shop down the road and ordered a latte before settling at the corner table and setting up his laptop.

One of the few benefits he'd found to being a reporter was the ability to work from anywhere.

He'd survive solely on additional cups of coffee until noon or so, when he'd wander a few blocks over to his favorite café.

Athos had chosen the coffee shop because it was small, out of the way, and because he knew the owner from college. Every so often she'd stop by his table with a muffin. She claimed it was so he didn't starve to death, but Athos suspected they were offered as thank you gifts for introducing her to her boyfriend.

It wasn't like he'd been trying to set them up or anything. The lad had just happened to follow him one morning for work purposes. The fact that they'd been perfect for one another had never crossed Athos's mind.

It had reached the point where Athos no longer bothered ordering. He simply walked in, sat down at his table, and shortly after someone brought over his latte.

Athos had endured a few months of sad attempts at latte art before putting his foot down. Now his coffee came to him without ornamentation.

He had everything exactly as he wanted it.

Which was why it came as such a surprise when his first coffee of the morning was set down in front of him with a pattern of what looked like flowers dribbled across the foam. He glared at it before glancing over at the counter. Only a new barista would send him this mockery. Athos would have to glare them into submission.

His icy look was met with a sunny smile before the new barista turned away to help another customer.

Athos stared. Only three people he knew failed to quail in the face of his glares. He felt as if he'd been knocked off balance.

It only got worse when the barista noticed him still staring and had the gall to wink, white teeth flashing as he smiled again.

Athos made a show of opening his laptop, refusing to be drawn into socialization by anyone. Even handsome baristas with smiles like sunshine.

An hour later, when his second cup arrived, it had a leaf design in the foam.

He looked up at Constance, who'd brought it over herself. She was trying to hide a smile.

"What is this?" Athos asked. "Did you put him up to this?"

She shook her head, giggling. "No, I didn't, but I think it's sweet. He likes you!"

Athos stared at her blankly. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, come off it," she said, rolling her eyes. "You think he does that for everyone?" She jabbed a finger at the leaf. "He likes you. And you could do a lot worse."

She bustled off before Athos could process this information, but when a muffin arrived a few minutes later, she'd scribbled on the napkin _his name's Aramis_.

Athos crumpled it up and stuffed it in his pocket. He would not be set up like this. This _Aramis_ could find someone else to send silly foam art.

He tried to focus on the article he was writing, but an hour later he'd managed barely 500 words. He was fighting the urge to slam his head against the keyboard when he noticed the time and frowned. His third cup should've been delivered by now.

As if on cue, someone placed a fresh latte on his table.

And then promptly sat down.

"Hello," Aramis said, smiling cheerfully at him. "Athos, right?" He nudged the coffee closer. Athos noticed that it had little hearts all over the foam. "Thought I might come over and introduce myself. I'm Aramis."

Athos just glared.

Aramis chuckled, completely unfazed. "Glare all you want. I've seen scarier."

"What are you doing here?" Athos asked coldly. "Shouldn't you be working?"

Aramis's grin widened. "It's my break. Has anyone ever told you you've got a lovely voice?"

Athos opened his mouth to reply and shut it again. How did one even respond to that?

"Ah, come on, you could at least give me a chance," Aramis said earnestly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was dark and artfully curled. Not that Athos noticed such things. "I know you're single, because Constance told me, and she would've stopped me from coming over here and making a fool out of myself if you weren't likely to be interested."

"Why would she tell you I'm single?" Athos asked darkly, privately resolving to murder Constance.

Aramis shrugged. "Probably because I asked. Did you like my art?" He bit his lip, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry the last one was late, I ruined three before I got it right and burned my hand."

Athos instinctively looked down and Aramis waggled several bandaged fingers. "Sorry about that," Athos murmured, forgetting to be cold. It was difficult to maintain an icy exterior with the sun sitting only a few feet away.

Aramis shrugged again. "It'll be worth it if I can convince you to have lunch with me."

Athos smirked. "You're very forward."

"One of my many charms," Aramis said with mock regret. "Listen, I'm not gonna be a bastard about this. If you're interested, I'd love to take you to lunch. If not, I won't bother you again."

Athos eyed him speculatively, charmed despite himself. "And where exactly would you take me to lunch?"

Dark eyes darted up to meet his, bright with hopeful interest. "There's this great café a few blocks over…"

"And how soon can you leave?" Athos asked, cutting him off.  
"Well, right away I sup- is that a yes?" Aramis asked, grinning enormously.

Athos shut his laptop with a snap. "I suppose it is," he smirked, surrendering to the interest sparking through him.

Perhaps it was time for a change in his routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 27 - Dramatically saving each other from certain death or barely surviving something that almost makes the other break down and just smirking wearily and mumbling flippant smartass remarks to HIDE THE DEPTH OF THEIR FEELINGS
> 
> Tags: Portamis, copious angst

Aramis might be in trouble here.

He knew it as soon as the ice began to creak beneath him. Moving carefully, he slipped his gun back into its holster, accepting that their target was going to escape. He had bigger concerns.

Like the ice cracking under his feet.

He froze, craning his neck to look at the dim shore. Porthos had only been a few minutes behind him, right?

Sure enough, he could see a large shape moving stealthily through the shadows by the shore. "Porthos!" he called, falling silent when the ice creaked beneath him.

"Aramis?" A dim light illuminated Porthos's scowling face. "Why are you standing in the middle of a frozen river?"

"Doing my job?" Aramis said weakly, hissing when the ice shifted under his feet. "Not to worry you, but I may be in trouble here."

"You think?" Porthos muttered. He tapped the ice with his foot and stepped out.

"What are you doing?" Aramis asked, fresh concern sweeping through him. "Get back to shore and call for help, you idiot. Don't come out here."

"No time. I can 'ear it creakin' from over 'ere," Porthos called, shuffling carefully toward him. "I'm getting you off there now."

"It's more likely to break with both of us on it!" Aramis cried. A loud crack split the air and he jumped, expecting to be plunged into freezing water, but the ice held.

"Hold still!" Porthos shouted. Only a few yards remained between them and Aramis to see the worry twisting his face. Porthos continued muttering as he tested the ice before him. "I swear, I can't leave you alone for two fuckin' seconds…"

A piece of ice shattered under Porthos's foot and he leapt back, swearing. Aramis couldn't help the cry that was torn from him at the sound.

"Porthos, please, go back," he begged, eying the cracks spreading like a spider web across the surface of the ice.

Porthos shook his head stubbornly. "Take my hand," he growled. Aramis reached out, but he couldn't catch hold of Porthos's fingers without moving, and he feared any step would shatter the already cracked surface.

He shifted, trying to reach, and another loud crack made him nearly jump out of his skin. A deep crevice formed in the ice before him, and even as he stared, horrified, the ice beneath his feet began to tilt.

He was going to fall in.

"No!" With a furious cry, Porthos lunged across the distance separating them. His hand fisted in Aramis's shirt and hauled him forward with enough force that he slid several yards behind Porthos across the slick surface.

He scrambled to get his feet beneath him as cracks like gunshots filled the night. He turned just in time to see the ice beneath Porthos's feet shatter like glass, sending him plunging into the black water.

"Porthos!" he screamed, all thoughts of falling through forgotten as he scrambled toward the edge of the gaping hole in the otherwise deceptively smooth surface. The ice was silent beneath him as he dropped to his knees, staring hopelessly into the dark water.

The logical part of his brain told him that going in after Porthos would just damn them both, but panic was swiftly drowning it out as the seconds ticked by and nothing broke the black surface. Aramis was on the verge of throwing himself into the water, consequences be damned, when Porthos's hand broke the surface, clamping onto the ice at the edge. His head followed a moment later, gasping and coughing.

"Porthos!" Aramis cried, darting over to him. Porthos's lips had already taken on a bluish tinge, and his hands were having trouble holding on to the cracking ice. Aramis grabbed the sodden fabric of his uniform jacket and hauled with all his strength until Porthos's chest was on the ice, which was beginning to crack alarmingly again.

Aramis managed to get Porthos upright, staggering under his weight. Porthos seemed only half-conscious, his limbs not responding enough to walk. Everything in Aramis screamed at him to hurry, but he forced himself to move slowly so the ice wouldn't send them both into the water.

After what felt like hours, he finally reached the shore. Porthos had gone limp against him, so Aramis dropped to his knees, twisting until he could pull his lover's body onto his lap. Porthos's skin was like ice, and Aramis's own blood seemed to freeze in his veins. His fingers fumbled for his cell phone and he made the call to 911 in a blank daze.

One phrase punctured the terrified haze in his mind: keep him awake.

"Porthos?" he murmured, hating the way his voice broke as he tapped his fingers against Porthos's cheek, trying to rouse him. "Porthos, wake up. Please don't do this to me."

There was no response. He curled his body further around Porthos, ignoring the icy water soaking through his pants and trying to offer what warmth he could. "Porthos, please, I need you to wake up," he pleaded, tears pricking at his eyes. He shook Porthos's shoulder helplessly. "Wake up, you bastard!"

Porthos twitched in his grip. "No need for name-calling," he whispered hoarsely.

Aramis couldn't help the breathless sob that escaped him at the sound of his lover's voice. "There is when you've been an absolute asshole and nearly gotten yourself killed," he said with a wet chuckle.

"Mm, think I saved your life," Porthos mumbled, dark eyes opening to blink blearily at him. "Fuck, s'cold."

"Don't ever fucking do that to me again!" Aramis cried, crumbling at last. "Don't you dare, Porthos, I can't fucking lose you like that."

"S'okay," Porthos murmured, curling against him. He fumbled a bit until one icy hand found Aramis's cheek, clumsily dashing at the tears. "M'fine. S'gonna be okay."

"I mean it," Aramis choked out, pulling him closer to the heat of his body. "Never again."

Porthos gave him a crooked smile as sirens began to sound somewhere nearby. "M'not goin' anywhere, love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 28 - Two miserable people meeting at a wedding
> 
> Tags: Constagnan, Portamis, Athos/Ninon, excessive amounts of fluff, I finally got to make everyone happy!

D'Artagnan was staring morosely at his drink when Athos found him. His gloomy hello had Athos raising an eyebrow as he sat down.

"I thought I had the market cornered on lugubriousness," he said languidly.

"What does that even mean?"

"Melancholy," Athos said. "This is a wedding, pup. It's wrong to be miserable at a wedding."

"I almost lost the rings, Athos," D'Artagnan said mournfully. "Aramis would've murdered me, and Porthos would've watched."

Athos huffed out a soft laugh. "Probably. But you found them in time. So there's no need to look so pathetic. Go dance with someone. Stop torturing yourself."

D'Artagnan just pulled his cup closer.

Athos sighed, but before he could say anymore, a blonde goddess appeared at his elbow. "We're needed _, mon cher_ ," Ninon said, a delicate hand resting on Athos's shoulder.

D'Artagnan always found it fascinating to watch the way Athos's face softened around Ninon. He looked so much happier.

D'Artagnan glared at his glass. Why did everyone else have what he'd always wanted?

"Coming, _ma cherie_ ," Athos murmured, standing up.

Ninon glanced over at D'Artagnan. "I think Porthos was looking for you," she told him thoughtfully. Athos offered her his arm and they walked off before D'Artagnan thought to ask why.

With a sigh, he abandoned his drink and wandered back to the tables where he'd last seen Porthos. Sure enough, he was leaning back in a chair, clutching a beer and watching the dance floor with a painfully affectionate grin.

D'Artagnan looked over and saw Aramis dancing with a woman D'Artagnan had never met. All he could see of her was the mass of auburn curls tumbling down her back, woven with golden strands that shimmered in the light.

"You needed me?" he asked, dropping down beside Porthos.

A heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder, and he glanced guiltily at the ring glinting there. He still couldn't figure out how he'd almost lost them in the taxi.

"Wanted t' talk to you," Porthos said, voice slurring a bit. He was obviously happily drunk. "'N thank you f'r bein' my bes' man."

D'Artagnan chuckled, patting Porthos's hand awkwardly. "Yes, well, I wasn't the best at it," he said ruefully. "I almost lost your rings, remember? You should've let Athos keep them."

"Athos 's Aramis's bes' man," Porthos said thickly. "I bought th' rings, so you 'ad to 'old 'em."

D'Artagnan saw that arguing with Porthos while he was drunk was pointless, so he just nodded and smiled, still pleased that Porthos had chosen him as his best man.

"Lookit 'im," Porthos said, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor. Aramis was now dipping the red-haired lady dramatically. D'Artagnan fought the urge to snort as he watched him show off, guessing Porthos wasn't thinking the same.

"'E's fuckin' perfect," Porthos said, nodding sagely. "Fuckin' beautiful. And lookit me. Who'd 'ave thought I'd end up wi' someone like tha'." He smiled triumphantly. "Lotsa people wanted 'im, and I beat 'em all."

"Well done," D'Artagnan said, feeling as if he ought to contribute.

Porthos beamed at him. "Tha's right. Well done me," he said, looking pleased with himself. "I got everythin' I ever wanted."

D'Artagnan sighed and looked down at his lap. Must be nice.

Suddenly Porthos shoved his bottle into D'Artagnan's hands. "'Scuse me," he slurred, getting to his feet. "I'm gonna go an' kiss my husband."

D'Artagnan set the bottle on the table, smirking as he watched Porthos stride across the dance floor and wrap around Aramis from behind. Aramis turned immediately to kiss him, abandoning his partner.

D'Artagnan chuckled and looked away, preferring not to watch two of his best friends making out _again_ , but barely thirty seconds after he looked away someone latched onto his arm and dragged him towards the dance floor.

"Aramis, wha-?" he asked blankly.

Aramis shot him an impatient look. "They're playing a slow song, and Constance needs a partner so I can dance with Porthos."

"I'm not dancing with someone I don't know!" D'Artagnan cried.

Aramis gave him a pleading look. "Oh, please, D'Artagnan, I can't leave her alone, she hardly knows anyone." When D'Artagnan shook his head again, Aramis pouted and added, "It's my _wedding_."

"I hate you," D'Artagnan muttered darkly. A moment later Aramis had all but thrown a woman into his arms and dashed off to sway provocatively against Porthos as the music switched to something slower.

"I am so sorry," D'Artagnan said, flushing furiously as he disentangled himself from his unsuspecting partner. He glanced up at her and forgot how to breathe.

"It's fine," she said, smiling at him. Her blue eyes were warm flashed in the lights. "Aramis can get a bit overeager. If you'd rather not dance, I promise I won't be offended."

"I want to dance," D'Artagnan said, a bit too quickly to pass off as casual. "I'm D'Artagnan."

"Constance," she said with a smile, wrapping her arms lightly around his neck. The golden strands woven through her hair gleamed as he worked up the nerve to put his hands on her waist. "You're Porthos's best man, right?"

"Uh, yeah," he said eloquently, finally resting his hands on her waist. "Yeah, I've known them both since college."

"Aramis talks about you at work," Constance said, giggling as Aramis and Porthos passed them, obviously seconds away from pawing shamelessly at one another.

"Oh god," D'Artagnan said, dismayed. "What does he say?"

"Nothing bad," Constance assured him quickly. "Just stories of your adventures."

"Oh," D'Artagnan said, relieved that his friend hadn't made a fool of him in front of this gorgeous woman. "That's fine, then."

The swayed in silence for a few moments, but it didn't feel awkward. When the song changed to something faster, he stepped back, not wanting to presume, and felt his heart lift when Constance asked, "Won't you stay and dance with me?"

"Yes, I will," he said, taking her hand and following her further onto the floor.

Athos was right: it was wrong to be miserable at a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 29 - “Oh my God, I’m so sorry; my dog doesn’t usually jump up on people like this. I have no idea what their deal is, but also, hey there”/”I think your dog likes my dog"
> 
> Tags: established Portamis, eventual OT3, adorable dogs

A gust of wind set Athos's scarf whipping. He smoothed it down and pulled his fingerless gloves out of his pockets, glaring darkly at the sky as if he could somehow cow it into submission.

He was still glaring when something soft and yapping hit his legs. At his side, Cap shot up, not growling, but alert.

" _Assis_ ," Athos ordered, looking down. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of a tiny scrap of a dog biting his shoe. Cap was watching it like he didn't know what to do with such a miniscule member of his own species.

"Hello," Athos murmured, crouching down to pet the little creature. "What're you doing on your own?"

Tiny teeth clamped around his finger. Athos realized the dog was no more than a puppy. Its fur stood out from its body in fuzzy, curly tufts, and one of its ears was inside out.

" _D'accord, Capitaine_ ," Athos murmured. Cap leapt up joyfully and sniffed the puppy. Athos ruffled its ears and felt a collar hidden amid the puffy fur. He was twisting it around to check for tags when Cap stiffened at his side, alerting him that someone was approaching.

"Oh, thank fuckin' Christ, I'd be dead if I lost 'im on 'is first walk," a deep voice rumbled. Athos looked up to find a handsome, muscular man skidding to a stop in from of him. A moment later he joined him on the ground, clipping a leash to the puppy's collar.

" _Laisse_ ," Athos ordered, and Cap relaxed beside him, wagging his tail at the stranger, who was checking the puppy over with a relieved expression.

"Thanks, mate," he said, flashing Athos a smile. Athos noticed that he had very white teeth that contrasted handsomely with his dark skin. "We just brought 'er home, and she's already turnin' out to be the very devil for getting' away from me."

"It was no trouble," Athos murmured. The puppy had returned to attacking his shoe.

"Oi, leave it," the man growled fondly, nudging the tiny thing away. The puppy gave an excited yip and leapt on Cap's tail instead. "No, Giselle, leave 'im alone."

"He doesn't mind," Athos said dryly, watching as Cap played with the puppy.

"She won't listen to a word I say," the man said, sighing. "'M Porthos, by the way."

"Athos," Athos murmured, shaking the proffered hand. "Your dog has a French name?"

Porthos made a face. "It ain't French so much as Disney," he muttered. "Dunno why I let 'im talk me into that."

Athos chuckled. "This is Capitaine," he said. Cap looked up at the side of his name, trotting over so Porthos could scratch his ears.

"He's a 'andsome fella," Porthos murmured, crouching down to pet Cap, who ignored his training and rolled onto his stomach. "Husky, yeah?"

"Indeed," Athos said, glaring affectionately at his dog, who was watching him smugly as Porthos rubbed his belly. "And what is Giselle? I don't recognize the breed."

The puppy in question had begun gnawing the hem of Porthos's jeans. "She's somethin' called a cockapoo," Porthos said, standing up again. When Athos made a disbelieving noise, he chuckled. "Yeah, no kiddin'."

"Well, it's a pretty breed," Athos murmured. He glanced up to find Porthos watching him with definite interest.

"I could say the same," Porthos said, grinning.

Oh. He was being flirted with. Before Athos could remember how one was meant to go about this flirting thing, Cap stiffened again, and another man barrelled into Porthos's back.

"Oh-thank-god-you-found-her!" the man blurted. He leaned heavily against Porthos's back, panting.

Then his eyes found Athos, and a slow smile spread across his face. His impossibly handsome face.

Athos actually blinked to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

"So, do we have you to thank for rescuing Giselle?" the man asked, pushing a hand through wild curls. His smile was miles past interested.

Porthos chuckled, shoving the man off him. "Aramis, play nice," he growled. "This is Athos, 'e found Giselle."

" _Enchanté_ ," Aramis murmured, taking Athos's hand. He lingered just a touch too long to be proper. Over his shoulder, Athos could see Porthos grinning at them both.

Athos felt rather as if he were being besieged on all sides. As if sensing her masters' intent, Giselle had curled up on his foot and gone to sleep, trapping him.

It wasn't exactly that he minded. He just would've preferred to be a bit more dignified about it all.

"I do apologize if Giselle spoiled your walk," Aramis said, looking far too pleased to be truly sorry.  
"She's a right terror, we can't make 'er understand commands," Porthos sighed, smiling a bit when he saw where his puppy had settled. Cap had laid down beside him as if guarding the tiny thing.

"Porthos, she's just a baby," Aramis chided, crouching to pick her up. Athos prayed he didn't flush when he felt Aramis's head brush his thigh as he stood back up. "She doesn't know any better yet."

"That's true," Athos said, straightening his spine when two pairs of dark eyes looked at him in unison. He lifted his chin a bit, enjoying the way Aramis's eyes immediately traced his jaw. Porthos was just grinning quietly again. "She's too young to be trained yet. A few weeks more, I would think. Do you have her enrolled in classes?"

"We don't have time," Porthos said, frowning. Aramis nodded, looking dispirited as he clutched Giselle to his chest. "We gotta do it outta books an' videos."

"I could give you some pointers," Athos offered, impressed with his own boldness. Maybe he wasn't so bad at this flirting thing. "Cap and I would be happy to help."

They glanced at each other and back at him, twin grins on their faces. "It's a date," Aramis purred. "Tomorrow?"

Athos nodded and they waved goodbye. Cap nudged his hand as they walked away, beating his tail against the ground.

"I know, boy," Athos murmured. "I like them too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For these last two days, ComeHitherAshes and I are each choosing one prompt from a list of Halloween-themed ideas, so our prompts won't match. That way, we get to cover more of the amazing Halloween prompts! Wooo! So mine is:
> 
> Day 30 - Carving pumpkins
> 
> Tags: BROT4, no ships, adorable boys getting up to Halloweeny shenanigans, some pumpkins were harmed in the writing of this fic

"What's all this for?" Porthos asked, wandering into the kitchen. Athos followed, frowning at the scene before him.

D'Artagnan rolled the last pumpkin onto the kitchen table, readjusting the tarp he'd flung over it like a tablecloth. "Aramis and I bought pumpkins!" he declared proudly.

Porthos was looking at the pumpkins in confusion. Athos merely raised an eyebrow. "Why?" he drawled. "What are we going to do with them, exactly?"

"Eat 'em?" Porthos suggested doubtfully. "We could make a pie."

"While that would probably be delicious, no. We're going to carve them," D'Artagnan said, grabbing some knives from the drawer. "Haven't you ever carved a jack-o-lantern before?"

"No," they said in unison. D'Artagnan gaped at them.

"Which is precisely why we will be doing so today, _queridos_ ," Aramis said, breezing into the kitchen with a handful of sharpies. A smaller pumpkin was tucked under his arm. "You simply can't go through life without carving at least one pumpkin."

He set the markers down and passed Porthos the extra pumpkin. "For our pie," he said, chuckling when Porthos grinned and set it safely on the counter.

"So, where do I start?" Porthos asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly as Aramis pointed out his pumpkin. Athos looked dubious, but he followed D'Artagnan when he led him over to the squashed-looking pumpkin he'd chosen for him. It had looked appropriately grumpy.

"First," Aramis said, passing them each a sharpie. "You must draw the face you wish to carve."

"Mine already has a face," Athos said, scowling. D'Artagnan bit back a laugh. He was making the same face as the pumpkin.

"Draw one anyway," Aramis ordered. He was already sketching something onto his own.

D'Artagnan tipped his pumpkin back and began drawing a traditional jack-o-lantern face. Beside him, Porthos was using his artistic skills to rapidly create something that looked utterly terrifying. Aramis's was winking and blowing a kiss.

When they had all finished, they looked over at Athos, who was drawing…

"A duck?" Aramis asked, flabbergasted. "Why on earth did you draw a duck?"

Athos shrugged. "It didn't seem right to give it a second face," he said. "So now it'll be a duck."

Porthos had begun to laugh, and after a moment D'Artagnan joined in. Athos glared at them both. Aramis stared at the duck for a few minutes longer before shaking his head.

"Right. Well done, I guess. Now we have to cut the top off and scoop out the guts."

"The what?" Porthos asked, sounding alarmed.

"The seeds and stuff," D'Artagnan explained. "You've got to clean it out."

Porthos nodded, looking relieved.

"Are we really using our good knives for this?" Athos asked archly, eyeing the knife Aramis had passed him.

"Oh, hush," Aramis huffed. "Just carve your damn pumpkin."

Porthos had already eagerly jammed his knife into the top of his pumpkin. Aramis moved hurriedly to help him while D'Artagnan explained to Athos that he needed to angle the blade as he cut to get the top off properly.

They were all silent as they worked until finally Porthos gave a shout of triumph, wrenching the top free and dropping it into one of the Tupperware Aramis had put on the table. Athos looked over and they peered at the inside of the pumpkin as if fascinated.

"You scoop it out," D'Artagnan said helpfully. "With one of those." He pointed at the cheap ice cream scoops they'd bought for just this reason.

"It's all slimy," Porthos said, face twisted with disgust. "It supposed to be like that?"

"Yep," D'Artagnan said, wrestling the top off his own pumpkin at last. Aramis and Athos freed theirs a moment later, and then the room filled with the squelching of pumpkin guts being removed.

D'Artagnan should've known the peace wouldn't last.

Porthos, apparently over his disgust, had abandoned the scoop and was yanking hunks of pumpkin innards out with his bare hands. This was all well and good, until he decided it would be fun to drop some in Aramis's hair.

He was lucky Aramis had put the knives on the counter already.

Aramis gave a shout of rage and upended his Tupperware of guts and seeds over Porthos's head. Porthos's return attack splattered pumpkin guts across Aramis's face.

Aramis's next throw missed Porthos entirely and thudded wetly against D'Artagnan's chest.

Enough was enough. With a yell, D'Artagnan scooped up a wad of guts and threw them at Aramis's head. He ducked, and they smashed into the side of Athos's face.

Everyone froze. Athos reached up, very slowly, and plucked a seed from his beard. Then he reached down and lifted his entire pumpkin off the table.

They ran.

In the end, only Porthos's pumpkin survived the evening intact. Pumpkin guts splattered the walls, floor, and even the ceiling, and pieces of smashed pumpkin littered the kitchen like decapitated limbs. Everyone had pumpkin seeds in their hair and down their shirts. D'Artagnan was pretty sure he'd seen Aramis put some down Porthos's _pants_ , but he didn't really want to think about that.

He himself had ended up with Athos's pumpkin upturned over his head, and his hair felt sticky and gross. He supposed he should be glad Athos hadn't broken the pumpkin over his head.

"Gentlemen," Athos said, eyeing the disaster that was the kitchen. "We have two options. We can clean ourselves first, and then the kitchen, or vice versa."

Amid a chorus of heavy sighs, it was decided they should clean now, while they were all still a mess. Then they engaged in a vicious race for the shower. Athos won by shoving Aramis into an open doorway, prompting Porthos to stop and check he was okay and D'Artagnan to skid into his back.

Later, when they were all clean, Porthos proudly showed off his finished jack-o-lantern.

A few months after that, on Christmas Eve, Aramis found seeds stuck in the ceiling lamp and pelted them at Porthos's forehead. Porthos retaliated with a Hershey kiss, and the whole thing began again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started out with a different prompt, but it was such a great prompt that it morphed into a 2500 word oneshot, so that'll be going up Halloween night to celebrate the spooookiness in addition to tomorrow's prompt. Also, if you're dressing up for Halloween, you should let me know in the comments, since I'm being boring and not going out and must live vicariously through all you lovely readers.
> 
> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes. If you go to either of our pages and search 'october writing challenge', you can see the list of prompts we'll be using. Leave a comment if you enjoy this lovely little challenge.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween to all you lovely readers! Thank you so much for all your support and comments during this challenge. Special shout out to DaniFogg for the amazing comments, they were a delight to read!
> 
> Day 31 - HALLOWEEN - Ouija board thinks we should fuck
> 
> Tags: OT3, established Athamis, referenced Constagnan, improper use of an Ouija board

Athos took one look at the box in the man's hands and shook his head. "No."

"Athos, please," Aramis begged, draping himself along Athos's side tipsily. Athos put a hand on his waist to steady him, still glaring.

The man with the box grinned at him, highlighting the scar that stretched down over one eye. Between the sinful grin and the muscles visible under his shirt, Athos could see why Aramis had brought him over. But still…

"I don't hold with superstitious nonsense," he said shortly.

"But it's Halloween!" Aramis said, pouting. "And Porthos said we can both play."

"One, it's not a game, it's a farce," Athos growled. "And two, it's childish. I refuse to participate."

"You scared?" asked Porthos, smirking. Athos's chin snapped up and he met the man's gaze, noting the interest flaring in the dark brown eyes.

"Of course not," he snapped.

Aramis made a worried sound and pressed further into him, trying to diffuse the tension. "Well, I am," he said, tugging on Athos's shirt. "Please don't make me play alone."

Damn him for knowing exactly how to press Athos's buttons. "Fine," he ground out, ignoring the triumphant smile that flashed across Porthos's face.

"Think Constance'll mind if we use a room?" Porthos asked, looking around for their hostess.

"She seems quite occupied," Aramis said, smirking. Athos looked too and saw Constance was sat on D'Artagnan's lap. The boy looked caught between shock and rapture. "Lucky pup."

Porthos chuckled and led the way through the house, obviously familiar with it. "How do you know Constance?" Athos asked as they followed him into a small room.

"We volunteer together at an orphanage," Porthos grunted, glaring at him as if daring to Athos to challenge him. When Athos just nodded, he relaxed a bit, flopping down on the floor and pulling the Ouija board out.

Aramis settled across from him, staring at the letters scrawled across the board with wide eyes. Athos bit back a scornful snort and sat too, lifting an arm when Aramis immediately pressed against his side.

Porthos watched them both with open interest, and even had the gall to wink at Athos, who did his very best to pretend that he was completely unaffected by the man's charm and good looks.

Porthos set the planchette down in the middle of the board. "Right, everyone put your fingers on it," he said, grinning at them. Aramis complied immediately, and Athos shifted closer to him possessively when his fingers pressed up against Porthos's.

"Athos, come one," Aramis said impatiently. With a world weary sigh, Athos set his hands on the planchette, ignoring the way his fingers tingled where they touched Porthos's.

"Anyone got any questions?" Porthos asked, looking between them.

Athos just glared, but Aramis cleared his throat and said, "Are there any spirits here with us?"

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the wood under his fingers moved. Aramis sucked in a breath, staring in fascination as the planchette slid to the 'yes' and stopped. Athos glared suspiciously at Porthos, who blinked innocently back at him.

"Let's have another," Porthos urged Aramis. Aramis nodded eagerly, still staring at the board in rapt fascination. If he hadn't been watching Porthos, Athos would've missed the way his expression softened into something that could only be described as fond at the sight. As it was, it went a long way towards warming Athos to him.

"What do I ask?" Aramis asked nervously.

"Whatever's on your mind," Porthos said, smiling encouragingly.

Damn him. Why did he have to be charming and thoughtful? It was getting hard to continue glaring.

"Are you male or female?" Aramis asked.

The planchette moved obediently to the m. Athos fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was painfully obvious to him that Porthos was doing to moving, but he decided to let it play out, curious now.

"Do you have a message for us?" Athos threw in, smirking when Porthos met his eyes. Porthos just grinned, not at all thrown by the understanding that Athos knew what he was doing.

"Good question," Aramis breathed, obviously still buying it hook, line, and sinker.

The planchette began to move. Athos obediently red off each letter until it stopped again.

"What did it say?" Aramis asked, too tipsy to keep the letters straight.

"You're cute," Athos muttered, scowling at Porthos, who just grinned unabashedly.

Aramis looked over at him, awed. "Athos, the spirit likes you," he murmured.

Athos decided to take a chance and murmured back, "I like it too."

Porthos's grin was nearly blinding, but it seemed he wasn't done yet. "I got one," he said. "Which one o' them should I take home tonight?"

"You can't ask a spirit that!" Aramis cried, looking scandalized. Athos was trying not to chuckle aloud at the man's audacity. He had to admit he was impressed, and honestly, not at all opposed to the idea. He had a feeling Aramis would agree if he ever cottoned on to what was really happening.

"It's answering though," Porthos said, clearly struggling to stay serious.

Athos dutifully noted the letters and bit back a smirk. "What did it say?" Aramis demanded, wide eyed.

Athos met Porthos's hopeful gaze. "Both of them," he said dryly.

Aramis frowned at him for a moment. "The spirit wants him to sleep with us?" he asked blankly.

Athos counted in his head. 3…2…1…

"Oh," Aramis murmured, smiling suddenly. "Spirit, eh?"

Porthos grinned at him shamelessly. "What can I say?" he asked with a smirk. "We oughta do as they say, yeah?"  
Aramis turned his head to look at Athos, and Athos read the willingness in his eyes. Ever so slightly, he inclined his head.

Aramis all but knocked the board aside in his eagerness to get to Porthos. Athos watched for a moment before reaching across and tangling his hand in Aramis's hair to pull him back so he could ask Porthos a very important question.

"How far away do you live?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over! Part of me is glad I can finally get back to working on Never Shall We Die and all the fic requests I've had piling up, but part of me is sad that I don't get to write an adorable fluffy au every night anymore. ComeHither and I already have another challenge planned for December, though, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Leave a comment if you've enjoyed this challenge and would like to see more like it. You can also leave suggestions for prompts that we can use in future challenges!
> 
> You can find us on Tumblr at lancelot-is-flying-the-tardis or comehitherashes.


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